Two, three, four times I attempt speech, each time halted by the hard sounding "t." Like a threatened witness, I am kept silent on the stand. I brace for embarrassment as I consider three routes to bypass the speech block. I could substitute a different word, repeat the sentence, or press through the stereotypical stutter. Since no synonyms immediately come to mind and since I have already repeated the sentence twice, I try to force my tongue. Responses vary. Some people seem not to notice, but most do. Many fight smiles with twisted faces. Those with little self-control sputter as they choke back giggles. I continue unflinchingly, thinking ahead to the next troublesome word.

As a youngster I was told I would soon outgrow my stutter as most children outgrow their Osh Kosh overalls. But by the fourth grade my speech had not improved, and I went to the first of many speech therapists. At this age I was still too young to grasp the full import of my stutter. I saw it merely as an issue concerning day-to-day interactions with friends and family. It was more of a social issue than one that affected me in the classroom. At that point the main problem was children quoting Adam Sandler's famous line from Billy Madison "t-t-today junior." Speaking to large crowds was not a concern. For this reason two hour sessions in small offices with so-called speech therapists, reading books written for children two years younger than I, proved unappealing and ineffective.

As I grew older, I found myself, stuttering in school plays and during oral presentations. As a consequence, one year, I was cast in a school play as the dancing dragon. This was certainly not the part I was hoping for as my suit was modeled after Barney's, though the purple was replaced with yellow. Not to mention midway through the performance I was instructed to enter the audience of preschoolers, align them in a circle, and dance in the center while they danced around me. As practice continued and I read through the script I realized all the words pertaining to me were in italics - stage direction! This was the first of my many mute theatrical appearances.

It was then that I realized stuttering could have a profound effect on my academic life, and even on my career. With further therapy it quickly became apparent that though I could learn techniques to help mitigate my stutter, I would in fact never grow out of it. This was a hard reality to accept.

Whereas the word, "stutter" once gave a name to my sense of inadequacy, it now represents a personal victory and a lesson learned through adversity. Even with speech therapy I will stutter for the rest of my life. I have accepted this reality and changed my expectation of fluency - I will never be flawless in speech or otherwise. I must live with my stutter. I must force myself to speak. I will not allow discomfort or embarrassment to prevent me from pursuing my goals.

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