I've presented to hundreds of people before. So why did this give me the wobbles?

On what happens when you swap boardrooms for the classroom and your confident, capable self temporarily leaves the building.

There’s a version of me in the past that has stood on a stage in front of a room full of people - hundreds of them actually - and presented with complete confidence. On stage and everything. I was in work mode and I knew my stuff so I was fine. Even in my own business, it isn’t my zone of preference by any stretch, but if the situation called for it, up I would go. Happy to take part as needed.

That (seemingly) same version of me recently sat in a classroom, albeit virtual, waiting to present a ten minute UX walkthrough to approximately ten people (fellow students, all going through exactly the same thing and two really kind and understanding human instructors) and Oh My Goodness was I nervous!

Which is, when you think about it, absolutely ridiculous.

Here’s what I’ve figured out about why though.

In that situation, you are not the expert anymore, and I think on some level your body knows it before your brain does.

When I’ve presented in the past in professional settings, I’ve been presenting from a position of knowledge. I built the thing. I ran the ops. I knew it inside out. The content was mine, and even if someone pushed back, I could handle the questions because I felt like I was standing on solid ground.

It has been a long time since I have been in a formal learning environment like I am now though and it’s different. You’re in a perpetual state of not quite knowing yet. You’re actively in the process of acquiring new skills, which means your relationship with the material is fundamentally less certain. So when you stand up to present, you’re not just sharing what you know… you’re also exposing what you’re still figuring out. It’s a great kind of vulnerable, in a safe space and absolutely enables learning and growth but it’s also hard to logic out in the moment when you aren’t quite sure why this mini presentation is becoming quite such a big thing!

Add to that the fact that you’re also temporarily out of your “skilled at XYZ” persona - a space that, for me at least, has kept me professionally confident for years - and it makes complete sense that your nervous system files it under ‘threat’.

The bit I never see anyone talking about… the wait before hand!!

The actual presenting? Yeah sure, when you are thinking back on it, you remember the wobbly hands but once you get going, you realise pretty quickly that it’s just... talking. About work. Which you have done four hundred thousand times. Your muscle memory kicks in after a few moments and your voice settles, and before you know it, it’s over and you feel completely fine.

But it’s the bit before really, isn’t it?

The wait.

You’re sitting there, watching someone else present, trying to be a good, attentive audience …except you’re running double time, are you? You’re running your own opening line on a loop whilst taking in their presentation and trying to offer valuable feedback. You’re conscious of the tension across your shoulders and the fact that you’re holding your stomach weirdly tight. You’re half-present for their presentation, which you feel guilty about, but you simply cannot fully switch off your own internal countdown.

And then your name is called, and you stand up, and approximately thirty seconds in you think — oh. I know how to do this. The shoulders drop and the words magically come out in the right order after the first fumble happens.

And when you sit back down, everything normalises immediately. Just like that. You realise this is all a bit silly really, there is no threat and it is just a presentation like your Instructor kept saying. Ahhhh, hindsight.

The graded edge to when you stop speaking and see what comes next…

In the real world, every presentation is a kind of performance review. You’re being assessed on your thinking, your communication, your presence. The stakes are real. But it’s rarely made explicit. No one hands you a rubric in the real world with how you did highlighted. No one scores you immediately afterwards while you’re still in the room.

The classroom version makes the assessment visible and immediate. Peers score you, facilitators give feedback, and it all happens in real time. The judgment that exists in professional life but stays politely offstage suddenly has a spotlight on it. No wonder it feels more exposing. It’s not that the stakes are any higher at all. It’s that the mechanism is just more upfront and honest. Which, arguably, is where the learning is and the ability to improve, iterate and grow in real time isn’t it?

What am I taking from the self-attached roller coaster I have boarded?

The wobbles, it turns out, are not a sign that I’ve lost my professional confidence or that I’m somehow less capable than I was six months ago. They’re a sign that I’m genuinely learning. That it is just that I’m in unfamiliar territory and my nervous system is responding accordingly.

If I’d walked into that classroom and felt completely at ease from day one, I’d probably have learned less. The discomfort is data.

So, as I am writing and realising it all has a place I think what I am saying is, if we weren’t nervous at all, would our hearts be in it? We obviously care enough for this to feel like high stakes -even though it’s completely mis-judged and unnecessary!

(The UX brain has officially taken over if I’m reframing my own anxiety as a research insight. Make of that what you will.)