What's the Big Deal About Public Speaking, Anyway?

You know that feeling? Your math teacher suddenly calls your name in the middle of class, asking you to explain the last problem on yesterday’s homework. Your brain goes *click* blank, your palms are so sweaty you’re scared your pen will slip out of your hand, and you stand there staring at the equations on the board for three full minutes before mumbling “I… I don’t know” and sinking back into your seat while the whole class snickers. You feel your face burn so hot you’re lowkey convinced you could fry an egg on your cheek, and you spend the rest of the period mentally replaying the disaster on loop, convinced everyone thinks you’re the biggest idiot in the grade. Or maybe it was club recruitment day. You spent three whole days drafting a 2-minute speech about why you should join the anime club, memorized it word for word, and stood in line for 20 minutes psyching yourself up. But when it’s finally your turn to step up to the mic, your legs turn to jelly, your voice shakes so bad it sounds like you’re a TikToker doing a “sad violin” sound effect, and you blurt out the only line you can remember: “I… I like anime” before bolting off the stage. You go home that night and emo to your favorite playlist for three hours, convinced you’ll never be able to speak in front of people for as long as you live. Sound familiar? Yeah, me too. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve blanked during a class presentation, tripped over my words during a club election speech, or laughed so hard mid-speech I forgot what I was even saying. 99% of teens have had at least one of these “public speaking cringe” moments in their lives. For years, I thought public speaking was a superpower only for the lucky few: the kid who’s student body president, the TikToker who can ramble for 10 minutes without a script, the teacher who can make a whole class laugh while explaining calculus. Turns out, I was wrong. Dead wrong. Public speaking isn’t a rare talent you’re either born with or you’re not. It’s a skill, like playing Minecraft, doing a kickflip on a skateboard, or nailing a 3-pointer in basketball. And more importantly? It’s the single most underrated cheat code for surviving (and thriving in) middle school and high school. Let’s start by breaking the three most common myths teens believe about public speaking, and I’ll prove it with real stories from kids just like you.

Myth #1: “Public speaking only counts if you’re on a stage with a spotlight and a microphone”

Let’s get one thing straight right off the bat: public speaking isn’t just for TED Talks, school assemblies, or speech competitions. The official definition of public speaking is “the act of delivering a speech or presentation to a live audience with the goal of informing, persuading, or entertaining.” That audience can be 1 person, 5 people, 30 people, or 10,000 people. That “speech” can be a formal prepared talk, a random answer to a teacher’s question, or even a 15-second story you tell your friends at lunch. Think about it:

• When you raise your hand in class to answer a question? That’s a 30-second speech for 30 people.
• When you’re in a group project and you explain your part of the research to your teammates? That’s a 5-minute micro-speech for 4 people.
• When you stand on the bleachers at the football game with a megaphone leading cheers for your class? That’s a 20-minute rally speech for 300 people.
• When you film a 60-second TikTok explaining why your favorite anime character is the best character ever written? That’s a speech for 100,000 strangers.

Even when you’re begging your parents to buy you the new Jordans you’ve been saving up for, listing out your good grades, your chores, and why you *deserve* them? That’s a persuasive speech for an audience of 2. Take Xiaoya, a 7th grader I worked with last year. She was the kid who would hide behind her textbook whenever the teacher made eye contact, who’d skip lunch just to avoid having to say hi to people in the hallway. She’d never raised her hand in class, not once, in her entire middle school career. Last semester, her history teacher assigned a project on Qin and Han dynasty clothing, and randomly paired her with a talkative partner who bailed on the day of the presentation. The teacher told her she had 5 minutes to present her part, or she’d get a zero. Xiaoya almost cried. But she’d spent three weeks making a tiny silk Hanfu robe for her project, and she didn’t want all that work to go to waste. She stood up in front of the class, her hands shaking so bad the tiny robe was flapping, and started talking about the embroidery on the collar, how each pattern represented a different wish for good luck. She got so into it she forgot to be scared, and when she finished, the whole class clapped. She got an A+, and the teacher asked her to present it at the school’s annual history fair. She practiced that 5-minute speech 47 times in her bedroom, first to her cat, then to her mirror, then to her mom. When she got to the school fair, she blanked halfway through and forgot the part about the Han dynasty’s collar designs. Instead, she panicked and started talking about the Terracotta Warriors’ actual armor patterns, which she’d read about as a fun fact. The judges loved it. She won first place. Now? She’s the captain of the school’s speech team, and she’s giving a 10-minute speech at the end-of-year assembly next month. The kid who couldn’t raise her hand a year ago is going to speak in front of the entire school. That’s the power of realizing that *every* time you speak up, no matter how small, you’re practicing public speaking.

Myth #2: “Being a good speaker is something you’re born with. You can’t learn it.”

Let me say this as loudly as possible for the people in the back: NOBODY is born a good speaker. That kid who slays every class presentation? The one who makes jokes, keeps the whole class engaged, and always gets an A? They practiced. The TikToker who can ramble for 10 minutes about their favorite K-pop group without stumbling? They filmed 30 terrible, cringey first takes before they posted their first video. Even the most famous motivational speakers you see on TV? They got booed, they forgot their lines, they tripped over their own feet on stage dozens of times before they got good. Take Akai, a 10th grader I met last year. He was the definition of a wallflower: he never talked in class, he ate lunch alone in the library, and he’d rather die than have to order his own food at a restaurant. He joined the skateboard club because he loved skating, but he never talked to anyone there, just showed up, skated for an hour, and left. Last semester, the club’s recruitment officer lost his voice the day of the club fair. The club advisor grabbed Akai right as he walked in, shoved a mic in his hand, and said “You’ve been here the longest, you talk.” Akai stood on the stage for 3 minutes, legs shaking so bad the mic stand was rattling, and rambled about how the club had a free half-pipe behind the school, how senior members would teach you tricks for free, and how they had a skateboard repair station if you broke your board. He didn’t have a script, he didn’t prepare, he just talked about what he loved. 30 kids signed up that day. The club advisor made him the new recruitment officer on the spot. Now? Akai gives 30-minute speeches at club events, runs the club’s TikTok account with 12,000 followers, and was just voted “most likely to become a professional speaker” by his grade. The kid who couldn’t order his own food at a restaurant can now get a whole crowd of freshmen excited about skateboarding. He didn’t learn that from a textbook. He learned it by practicing, by messing up, by getting comfortable with being uncomfortable. And if you still don’t believe me? Think about your favorite content creator. The one who makes funny skits, or talks about their favorite games, or does makeup tutorials. Go scroll back to their first ever video. I guarantee you it’