Final Crit

As mentioned before crits are incredibly nerve wracking, but nothing prepared me for the dry throat panic of THE FINAL CRIT. The this is it, nothing more you can do, no pressure but what you say in the next 20 minutes affects your grade crit. I think I speak for the entire class when I say I was holding my pen with white knuckles as I quickly scribbled a few last-minute notes on what to say, anticipating a mental block.
Learning how to present your ideas is crucial; as someone who doesn’t relish the idea of public speaking, I thought it best to plan out my presentation. Unfortunately, what I didn’t anticipate was that in a moment of pure fear, I forgot how to read. I was left standing blankly, note pad held limply in my hand as I stared at my lecturers and peers as if they’d all just fallen from a tree.


Fortunately, as I said in the previous post, the support of your classmates can be the difference between sink or swim. One look of ‘what the fuck are you doing’ from the back of the class was enough to jump start me into life. I rambled for what felt like years about Permindar’s work and how that, in turn, influenced my design. I tripped over words, the jot stuck in my teeth and tittle rolling around in my mouth, and eventually spat out what I can only hope was a coherent sentence. I had already thought about the layout of my work and had it on the wall in what I felt was a methodical way so that the presentation flowed nicely. Or, as nicely as it could when a prickly heat is rapidly taking over your body, encouraging you to talk as quickly as possible to get out of there. Presenting is something that, although unpleasant, gets easier. And fortunately with fear comes adrenalin.

When I slumped down into my chair after the presentation I was red-faced, embarrassed, and frantically chocking back a lump in my throat, but I was pumped. Pumped because although I wanted to cry, I didn’t. And because I had presented my work- work that I was proud of. And most of all, because I was now officially done with first year.


Let summer ensue.


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