An Open Letter to the Greatest Speech Team That Ever There Was:

Thank you. First and foremost, if you get nothing else out of this piece of writing, thank you. Whether you were a fellow teammate or one of our incredible coaches, what I gained from you is something I will forever retain, never forget. Thank you.

Going to high school as a nervous, relatively shy freshman, I had never wanted to join either side of the forensics team. I planned to do theatre, choir, and band, and that was it: being on a stage, in a character, was the only time I had true confidence. That was my plan, and, for a while, I stuck to it. I was fortunate enough to be cast and participate in all three mainstage shows that year; I was a part of concert choir, and I was a member of both marching and concert band. Even when my English 9D teacher—our lovely debate coach—told me that I would be perfect for speech, would excel at and thrive in it, I didn’t join. It didn’t seem like something I wanted to do, or would be good at. Performing in extremely close proximity to a judge? Having to break character in the middle? Popping and morphing—what the heck are those? And all in a business suit, no less? I wasn’t sure my anxiety-ridden self could handle that pressure or that time, regardless of how much the theatrical art form meant to me.

So, for the next two years, I went nowhere near your claimed classrooms and rehearsal spaces. I went into the English wing for class and to talk to favorite teachers, no more, no less. For two years, several of my friends relentlessly tried to convince me to join, and teachers consistently commented on how good I would be at it. Still, nope. No way. I was slowly thawing, I suppose, but still stubborn in my nonexistent want to join.

During this time, I was flipping between the three activities I had come in wanting to do. Theatre was the only consistency—I dropped band sophomore year due to time management issues and decided not to return to show choir after the first year. I just couldn’t find my place anywhere. I hadn’t found somewhere that I always belonged, always felt accepted, a place where I was always growing. Nothing felt completely right one hundred percent of the time.

Then, junior year came around. I needed something else to fill up my (meager amount of) free time since the lack of show choir felt strange in my schedule. After some talk with my parents and a little bit of soul-searching, I nervously, giddily decided that—what the heck—I’d try speech for the year, come to you for those two semesters. I’m sure I don’t have to say that my veteran speech friends were ecstatic (thanks for your literal screams in the cafeteria, Sam and Frannie!). I went through the entire application and audition process, met with Mr. and Mrs. Heimes, got all the information…

And I almost backed out.

I’m sure none of you remember that. I’m not even sure how many of you I told. However, that’s correct: I went through everything that I needed to, signed almost all of the papers, and very nearly quit before I started. After attempting to visualize the commitment, seeing the material, and being (admittedly) slightly intimidated by you all, I freaked out. That’s the most blatant way to put it. I asked Mr. Heimes if I could think about it and hurried out of his classroom. That night, I did what I said: I thought about it.

I will forever be grateful that my answer was yes. I’m so glad that we came into each other’s lives when we did.

Within our speech team, I found a home. I joined at a really tough, chaotic, and fragile time in my life, and you responded with a second family. It didn’t matter how stressful or horrible my day had been: stepping into that meeting or rehearsal space felt immediately like I could breathe easier. The amount of support, love, and friendship that speech provides was a life- and sanity-saver. My best friends emerged from this speech team. I met new ones and grew ever closer to the people I already knew I had. There are no words to describe how much that means, not only to me but to every person who steps into that safe space. Our coaches became second parents or the cool aunts, uncles, and cousins whom you wish you could grow up to be; our teammates became like brothers and sisters, the best friends we all wanted as children. Of course, there were times when we got on each other’s nerves, poking and prodding until we irritated each other beyond comprehension, but that’s what happens in any family. Those times are far outnumbered by the good. Thank you all for the support system that I know will last a lifetime. Thank you for introducing me to the people that helped me the most in my life. No words in the English language can express my gratitude for that.

Thank you, as well, for helping me learn, both as an artist and a person. For the two years, I was with speech, I grew so much more than I ever could have imagined. In my art form, I felt myself come to be closer to my characters, understand more about the world surrounding myself and them, and just simply improve. As a person, I’ve become more aware, more observant, and more open-minded than I was before (and I thought I was pretty good at all of them previously if I may humbly say so). The speech environment is one in which you can be unafraid to make mistakes and to grow from them; it’s one where we are all in a consistent state of education and improvement. That’s literally one of the best aspects of this crazy thing we did: hearing so many different voices while expressing your own, and learning and growing from them. It’s so, so amazing and so, so beautiful. The biggest reason that I love acting is exemplified in speech; I love it. Thank you for teaching me, whether a coach or a peer.

Finally, I want to thank you for instilling in me something I will carry with me for eternity…and that is that “Rhiannon” is just as good as any character I will ever portray in my lifetime. I am just as significant as Ann Richards, or Marmee, or Shane Koyczan, or Anne Hathaway (Shakespeare’s wife, not the actress…though she’s important, too!). Like I said, I came into speech at an extremely rough time in my life. I was never a very confident person, to begin with, and that had been knocked down a few notches throughout the beginning of my high school career. The only time I felt truly at ease and self-assured was when I wasn’t myself. When I was embodying a different person—whether that be through acting, music, dance, writing, or a combination of any of them—I felt the most at home. I kind of figured it would always be like that, especially since that’s what I plan to do for the rest of my life. Then you guys came along. You showed me that being myself is just as beautiful as being a beloved character from literature. You showed me that I mattered, that my voice mattered, and that I was important. When I finally realized and embraced that to whatever extent I could, little by little, that’s when I improved. I developed better characters, I spoke up more in class, I wrote more and better quality, and I was more likely to engage in conversation with people I didn’t know. Now, I’m still introverted. But you guys helped me love myself, whether you were a coach or a teammate. Nothing can repay you for that.

Speech gave me some of my fondest memories of high school. I’ll never forget it, and I’ll never forget you. I know that we will forever have each other’s backs when need be. Thank you for teaching me, for loving me, for encouraging me and pushing me. I don’t think I’d be where I am now without you. Thank you. Just thank you.