Andrew Badham 2018-10-04 15:46:52
My high-scool, like many others, had a variety of inter-house events, both in sports and the arts. It was a privilege we were afforded that allowed almost every boy to excel in at least one activity. Of course, the sheer variety of events meant that not every house would have many boys talented in each, which was the scenario I found myself in my Matric year.
I belonged to one of the smaller houses, and as such, I happened to be the only boy who took drama. So, the task of writing, directing and performing in the house play fell to me. Thankfully, what the other boys lacked in experience, they made up for in enthusiasm, so I had more than enough volunteers for a cast and crew. Nevertheless, I struggled to get them to express themselves, to put life and energy into their lines, which is hardly an uncommon problem for first-timers.
By the night of the performance, I still hadn’t managed to coach them to emote any more than the average Vulcan. It was nearly time for our play to go on stage, so I tried my hand at a last chance motivational speech. All I told them was, “Those are your friends watching out there. Go and make them laugh.”
And, my goodness, did they put on a show. They threw themselves into their characters with reckless abandon, reaping shrieks of laughter from the audience, and showed improvisational capabilities they had never evidenced before. Needless to say, I was chuffed.
I thought their change in performance was due to my motivational skills. I was, of course, wrong. What I would only learn several years later, was that I was coaching them all wrong. I was trying to teach them the details of how to perform i.e. how to stand, the appropriate posture, how to modulate their voices. I was trying to teach them the mechanics of acting. Don’t get me wrong, it’s important to know the details, but when you’re stressed, it’s impossible to keep several details in mind, or at least, in focus.
What I would later learn, first by my own experience and then by corroborating research, was that it’s far better to focus on intent. In other words, don’t think about what you want to do; think about what you want to achieve. From my own experience, I began to realise that I wouldn’t make eye contact with all my students because I was thinking about making eye contact. Rather, I would make eye contact because I wanted to speak directly to each one of them, to engage with them and to gauge their responses.
I later came across a TED-Ed video which supported my observations. Golfers who, when under pressure, thought about the mechanics of their swing, fared worse than those who had the end goal in mind. There are two key factors to keep in mind here. The first is that these were golfers who were already well practised in their swings, which means that motion should have been assigned to subconscious actions. The second is that the effect was only seen in stressful situations.
That’s important to note because it suggests a different focus for practice than it does for performance. When we are calm and safe in our practice environments, we can afford to think of refining the mechanics of our performance. When it comes to the actual performance, we have to shift our focus to what we want to achieve.
So for something like presentation skills, don’t think about the pace of your speech; think about being understandable. Don’t think of how to modulate your tone; think about what you want them to feel. Don’t think about your posture; think about how you wish to be perceived. Just remember to first practice pacing yourself, modulating your speech and standing erect, so that you have the skills to meet your intentions.