Hi,
This is Clay Stevenson and welcome to Of Mice and Moments,
A podcast that finds significance in the small moments.
My hands were sweaty.
My heart was racing.
I anticipated the next moment.
But what happened,
I could never have prepared for.
When it first started,
I couldn't believe it was happening,
Nor could I believe how long it lasted.
As I've mentioned before,
I was no stranger to being in front of people,
Having played piano from an early age.
I participated in recitals,
Sung at church,
And in choirs at school.
Later in life,
I played in bands and got into teaching.
So,
It was inevitable that at some point in my life,
Having chosen a path where I was in front of others,
I would find myself in front of an angry or unhappy crowd.
Perhaps someone didn't like the way I looked.
Perhaps I reminded them of something in themselves that they didn't like.
Maybe they were jealous.
Maybe they had a bad day or bad morning.
Maybe family members had been yelling at them.
Have you seen the comic where the dog bites the owner who goes to work and yells at his employee?
Then the employee goes home and yells at his son who runs outside and chases the neighbor's dog with a stick?
Maybe I was somewhere in that cycle.
But as I stood on stage and heard the beginning of the rumble in the crowd,
I felt the most uneasy feeling I had ever felt in the pit of my stomach.
As the dread rose within me,
It took all of my willpower not to run off stage because the crowd had started booing.
That's not the only time I've been booed on stage.
In front of a friendly crowd,
Family and friends,
You might hear a boo for a joke that doesn't land or for something silly you say,
A playful boo.
There's a difference with a playful boo.
Those you can roll with and often appreciate as supporting or encouraging your act or performance.
This one was different.
I could tell because as it grew,
The energy in the room grew dark and sinister.
Alongside the boos were shouts and screams of laughter.
On display was the malice and uncaring selfishness of humankind.
I'm sure there were some in the room not contributing but when I looked out at the seven or eight hundred people in front of me,
It sure felt like every person was booing.
I imagine that not all of them hated me in that moment,
But there's a mob mentality that social psychology tells us is part of our human nature.
When something or someone is weaker and we have the ability to set ourselves above that weakness,
There seems to be a natural draw to that space.
As someone who has often been in front of crowds,
I'd like to think that I could have and would have handled that experience well,
But I did not.
I did not handle it well because at the moment when I took the stage,
I was 12 years old.
The administration at my middle school thought it would be a good idea to award students who were academically excellent.
They thought it was a good idea to invite the entire middle school to sit and watch as one student from each of the three grades was highlighted as the pinnacle of academic achievement.
Being a hard worker throughout my life,
I tried hard.
I wanted to be good at what I did.
I never considered myself academically gifted,
But I would do well on assignments,
Study hard and get good grades.
But I wasn't ready for them to call my name,
To walk in front of the gymnasium,
Stand on stage,
For them to tout my achievements.
I wasn't ready for that.
They hadn't prepared me.
They hadn't asked my permission.
I wasn't ready.
But when I did,
To my horror,
All of my friends,
Enemies,
Classmates,
People who I cared what they thought of me,
People that I would see tomorrow,
The next day,
And for the next eight or nine years of my life,
Those kids were booing me,
Booing and laughing and demonstrating how the weight of a mob can crush the soul,
Spirit,
And heart of a 12-year-old boy.
Knowing now what I didn't know then,
I wish I would have just taken it in stride and gone my way.
Realizing that the hearts and minds of adolescents are fickle and that time would soon heal,
But in the moment,
Not knowing how to respond,
I threw up my hands in triumph,
Stirring the crowd into a frenzied roar.
Rubbing salt into the wound,
I walked back to my seat amidst the crowd that had just booed me as the principal tried to quiet them,
Admonishing them for their rude behavior,
And my coping mechanism must have caused me to forget the rest of the day and the weeks that followed because I can't tell you how I reacted as I sat amongst those peers and in classes.
But I do remember that when I came home that afternoon,
I was so relieved to be in the comfort of my home.
Knowing that my parents and my family didn't know what I went through,
I could be again myself.
Not the kid that was just booed by hundreds.
I could live a different life.
I didn't tell anyone,
But I carried it with me.
That pain and that hurt,
That crushed little spirit,
I carried it with me.
Two or three days later,
As I was walking to bed,
The burden of that pain and hurt was coming to the fore,
So I walked into my parents' room and I wept.
They were shocked.
They couldn't imagine what was so wrong,
And it took me five or ten minutes to finally get it out.
I was ashamed.
I was ashamed of how I behaved.
I was ashamed of being booed,
And I had carried that shame with me.
And my parents loved me and hugged me and threatened to call the school,
But I asked them to leave it alone.
Their loving kindness helped soothe some of the burden I was carrying,
But it didn't take it away.
That shame and hurt lived with me for a long time.
I imagine if we think about it,
We can all relate to being the subject of hurtful words or scorn.
Perhaps some of you have had a similar experience as me.
Maybe you haven't been booed by a physical crowd,
But maybe an online troll has pushed your buttons or a casual acquaintance has contradicted you on Facebook.
Maybe someone has left you an unkind comment under the cover of anonymity,
The faceless voice in front of friends and strangers alike.
When I read the comments about the people who do something ridiculous,
Not criminal or malicious,
But still they become the scorn of the internet,
My heart goes out to them.
Not because I agree or disagree with their stances or opinions,
But because I've been on the other side of that.
I've been booed by the crowd.
And in this season,
As people live online like never before,
When people exist in parallel worlds sometimes never crossing over,
There are those who are drawn to give a downvote,
Boo with the crowd or leave a devastating comment.
And I wish they would think twice.
I wish we would all think twice before hitting the send button,
Before spewing negativity.
Because inside the person on the other end is a 12 year old child.
And maybe they're standing on stage for doing what they thought was right and at the same time feeling crushed and shamed by the booze and malice of the crowd.
