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Obligatory this happened yesterday and I’m still unemployed, homeless in spirit, and possibly about to be on several watch lists.
So I’m (23M) in this absolute clown-show of a community college “Advanced Public Speaking” class that’s required for literally every degree plan even though nobody will ever give a shit if I can properly cite sources while sweating through a five-minute speech about why pineapple on pizza is a war crime.
Our professor is Ms. Delgado. Mid-30s, always wears those high-waisted wide-leg trousers and silky blouses that are somehow professional and devastating at the same time. She has that calm, slightly amused teacher voice that makes you feel simultaneously safe and like she already knows you’re lying about why your outline is “in progress.” Everyone in the class has a low-key crush on her. Everyone. Even Kevin who only shows up for the free Wi-Fi.
Anyway.
We had to do this stupid “vulnerability icebreaker” assignment because apparently public speaking professors read one too many Brené Brown books. The prompt was: “Share something embarrassing that you’ve never told anyone in person before. Keep it classroom-appropriate.”
Reader, I panicked.
I could’ve said “I once cried during a Geico commercial” or “I still sleep with the weighted blanket shaped like a burrito.” Safe. Boring. Survivable.
Instead my brain did the thing where it speed-runs every bad decision I’ve ever made and decided “hey you know what would be hilarious and also make me seem super self-aware? Absolute brutal honesty.”
So when it was my turn I stood up, palms swampy, and went:
“Yeah so uh… hi. My name’s [redacted]. And something embarrassing I’ve never told anyone in person is… I have definitely, uh… gooned to Ms. Delgado before. Like… multiple times. Not proud of it. Just… happened. Sorry. That’s all.”
Dead. Fucking. Silence.
You could hear the fluorescent lights buzzing like they were personally offended.
Ms. Delgado just blinked once. Slowly. The exact blink you give when your toddler just told you they flushed your AirPods “to see if they can swim.”
Then she very calmly said, “Thank you for your vulnerability, [redacted]. While I appreciate the honesty, that is… significantly outside the bounds of classroom-appropriate sharing. Please sit down.”
I sat down so fast the chair made a sound like a deflating whoopee cushion.
The rest of the class was a blur. I remember:
- A girl in the front row whisper-yelling “did he just say GOONED?”
- Kevin giving me the slowest, most judgmental thumbs-down in recorded history
- Someone in the back coughing so hard I’m pretty sure they aspirated their gum
Class ends. I’m speed-waddling toward the door like I’m trying to outrun my own skeleton when Ms. Delgado calls out, perfectly pleasant:
“[Redacted]? A word, please.”
I freeze. Everyone else evacuates like I’m carrying airborne ebola.
She closes the door. Just the two of us. My heart is doing 180 BPM dubstep.
She leans against her desk, arms crossed, and goes:
“I’m going to give you exactly one chance to explain what you thought was going to happen after you said that sentence out loud in front of thirty people.”
I open my mouth. Nothing comes out except the soul leaving my body through my esophagus.
She continues, still calm as a Zen garden:
“I’ve been teaching for nine years. I’ve had students confess to plagiarism, to doing mushrooms before midterms, to stealing the class hamster for a TikTok. This is… new. So. Enlighten me.”
I manage to croak: “I thought… vulnerability points…?”
She actually laughs. One sharp, disbelieving bark.
Then she says, “You have until Monday to email me a 500-word apology and reflection on why that was inappropriate. And if I ever hear the word ‘gooned’ in this classroom again I will fail you so hard you’ll have to retake public speaking at gunpoint. Understood?”
“Yes ma’am.”
She points at the door. “Get out of my sight before I change my mind about not reporting this.”
I practically teleported to the parking lot.
I’m currently:
- Failing public speaking (projected)
- Immortalized in at least three group chats titled variations of “bro said WHAT”
- Pretty sure someone recorded the moment my life ended
- Never allowed to make eye contact with Ms. Delgado again
TL;DR: Tried to win vulnerability points. Instead won a permanent spot in my professor’s “students I think about at 3 a.m.” nightmares.
So I’m (23M) in this absolute clown-show of a community college “Advanced Public Speaking” class that’s required for literally every degree plan even though nobody will ever give a shit if I can properly cite sources while sweating through a five-minute speech about why pineapple on pizza is a war crime.
Our professor is Ms. Delgado. Mid-30s, always wears those high-waisted wide-leg trousers and silky blouses that are somehow professional and devastating at the same time. She has that calm, slightly amused teacher voice that makes you feel simultaneously safe and like she already knows you’re lying about why your outline is “in progress.” Everyone in the class has a low-key crush on her. Everyone. Even Kevin who only shows up for the free Wi-Fi.
Anyway.
We had to do this stupid “vulnerability icebreaker” assignment because apparently public speaking professors read one too many Brené Brown books. The prompt was: “Share something embarrassing that you’ve never told anyone in person before. Keep it classroom-appropriate.”
Reader, I panicked.
I could’ve said “I once cried during a Geico commercial” or “I still sleep with the weighted blanket shaped like a burrito.” Safe. Boring. Survivable.
Instead my brain did the thing where it speed-runs every bad decision I’ve ever made and decided “hey you know what would be hilarious and also make me seem super self-aware? Absolute brutal honesty.”
So when it was my turn I stood up, palms swampy, and went:
“Yeah so uh… hi. My name’s [redacted]. And something embarrassing I’ve never told anyone in person is… I have definitely, uh… gooned to Ms. Delgado before. Like… multiple times. Not proud of it. Just… happened. Sorry. That’s all.”
Dead. Fucking. Silence.
You could hear the fluorescent lights buzzing like they were personally offended.
Ms. Delgado just blinked once. Slowly. The exact blink you give when your toddler just told you they flushed your AirPods “to see if they can swim.”
Then she very calmly said, “Thank you for your vulnerability, [redacted]. While I appreciate the honesty, that is… significantly outside the bounds of classroom-appropriate sharing. Please sit down.”
I sat down so fast the chair made a sound like a deflating whoopee cushion.
The rest of the class was a blur. I remember:
- A girl in the front row whisper-yelling “did he just say GOONED?”
- Kevin giving me the slowest, most judgmental thumbs-down in recorded history
- Someone in the back coughing so hard I’m pretty sure they aspirated their gum
Class ends. I’m speed-waddling toward the door like I’m trying to outrun my own skeleton when Ms. Delgado calls out, perfectly pleasant:
“[Redacted]? A word, please.”
I freeze. Everyone else evacuates like I’m carrying airborne ebola.
She closes the door. Just the two of us. My heart is doing 180 BPM dubstep.
She leans against her desk, arms crossed, and goes:
“I’m going to give you exactly one chance to explain what you thought was going to happen after you said that sentence out loud in front of thirty people.”
I open my mouth. Nothing comes out except the soul leaving my body through my esophagus.
She continues, still calm as a Zen garden:
“I’ve been teaching for nine years. I’ve had students confess to plagiarism, to doing mushrooms before midterms, to stealing the class hamster for a TikTok. This is… new. So. Enlighten me.”
I manage to croak: “I thought… vulnerability points…?”
She actually laughs. One sharp, disbelieving bark.
Then she says, “You have until Monday to email me a 500-word apology and reflection on why that was inappropriate. And if I ever hear the word ‘gooned’ in this classroom again I will fail you so hard you’ll have to retake public speaking at gunpoint. Understood?”
“Yes ma’am.”
She points at the door. “Get out of my sight before I change my mind about not reporting this.”
I practically teleported to the parking lot.
I’m currently:
- Failing public speaking (projected)
- Immortalized in at least three group chats titled variations of “bro said WHAT”
- Pretty sure someone recorded the moment my life ended
- Never allowed to make eye contact with Ms. Delgado again
TL;DR: Tried to win vulnerability points. Instead won a permanent spot in my professor’s “students I think about at 3 a.m.” nightmares.
