Several years ago, I had the privilege of leading a 15-person United Nations delegation to Iran on an environmental fact-finding mission. The mission was very high level and a matter of importance for the Iranian Government. We met with several Iranian officials in Tehran on the first day and then split into three groups, each of which visited a different area of the country.

That first meeting was attended by 60 to 70 people and had all the trappings of a formal international meeting that one often sees on television. While many of our hosts spoke English, many did not and so we had simultaneous Farsi-English interpretation.

The meeting was opened by a representative of the Iranian government who made some introductory remarks. He then invited me to speak. Now, given the occasion, I had worked on my remarks for some time to make sure that everything went well.

As I have written in the past, I strongly believe that native English speakers who give presentations in another country should be able to say at least a couple of words in the local language as a sign of respect. So, I had worked with an Iranian colleague in Geneva on an introduction in Farsi (which I read) about how pleased we were to be in Iran and how we looked forward to a productive mission. I then switched to English.

The Iranians in the audience very much appreciated the effort. Seeing that I had made a good initial impression, I decided to capitalize on the moment by trying a little humour. When I had been practicing speaking in Farsi in Geneva, I asked my colleague whether my pronunciation was OK. He said that it was fine but that my accent made me sound like I was from Afghanistan (where Farsi is widely spoken in the north).

So, when I switched to English, I began by telling my audience that I hoped that they had been able to understand me and then recounted the comment of my Iranian colleague in Geneva. Well, to my delight (and relief), the audience burst out into laughter. It was a great way to break the ice at the start of an important meeting.

Why did the humour work? I think there are a few reasons:

• It was simple and did not involve the use of any jargon, expressions or colloquialisms.

• It was (very) mildly self-deprecating in that it highlighted my struggle with the Farsi language.

• It was universal, in that most people have had the experience of speaking in their own language to someone with a distinct accent.

• It was also particular to the audience, given that Iran and Afghanistan are bordering countries.

• It was clean. There was nothing disrespectful about saying that my accent sounded Afghani. It’s just the way that it sounded, apparently.

• My Iranian colleague had suggested that I could mention his comment about my accent. Vetting humour with someone from the same culture as the audience is always a good idea.

Photo courtesy of Bram / “brum d” on Flickr

No, today’s post is not about a new sci-fi movie. Rather, it’s about the distinction between two mainstays of public speaking: the podium and the lectern.

A podium (pl. podiums or podia) is the raised platform on which the speaker stands to deliver his or her speech. “Podium” is derived from the Greek word πόδι (pothi) which means “foot”. The word “podiatrist” (foot doctor) comes from the same source.

A lectern is a raised, slanted stand on which a speaker can place his or her notes. “Lectern” is derived from the Latin word lectus, the past participle of the verb legere, which means “to read”. The word “lecture” comes from the same source.

There are tabletop lecterns and there are standalone lecterns. They come in all sizes.

Small

Photo courtesy of Nathan Colquhoun (nathancolquhoun / Flickr)

Medium

Photo courtesy of Andrew Feinberg (Andrew Feinberg / Flickr)

Large

Photo courtesy of Jeff Hitchcock (Arbron / Flickr)

It is important to make the distinction between a lectern and a podium. And yet, many people say “podium” when they are actually referring to a lectern. (Conversely, I have never heard anyone say “lectern” when referring to a podium.)

Some might say that I am just quibbling over semantics. But suppose you’re giving a speech. You phone the event organizer and ask if there will be a “podium” when you actually mean a lectern. If the organizer is not on the same (incorrect) wavelength and says “No”, you might end up needlessly scrambling to find your own lectern. If the organizer says says “Yes”, you might arrive to find a real podium but no lectern.

To summarize: You stand at or behind the lectern; you stand on the podium.

In case you missed the debate, this was the moment:

So what lessons can we learn from Perry’s cringe-worthy moment?

1. Be prepared and have your key points down cold. Yes, we are all human. Yes, we all make mistakes. But … good grief, the man is running for President of the United States! And he was not talking about some esoteric issue; he was talking about shutting down three major federal government agencies. That’s huge. If you are going to take that kind of position, you have to be able to name the agencies and articulate the rationale for abolishing each one at the drop of a hat.

2. Deal with the mistake quickly. Had Perry acknowledged that he had forgotten (around 0:15), he would have minimized the damage. But like a punch-drunk boxer, he kept coming back for more and each attempt just made it worse. By the end of the clip (at 0:53) you can hear someone (another candidate or one of the moderators) say “Oh my!”. It would have been much better if Perry had said “… commerce, education and … I’m sorry but I’ve just drawn a complete blank. I’ll come back to you with the third agency in a moment.” Doing so would have minimized the time spent on the issue, it would have moved the debate along and it would have given Perry time to collect his thoughts.

3. Organize your notes. At around 0:50, Perry shuffles through his notes to find the answer but quickly gives up. Your notes must be prepared in a manner that makes them useful. They should not be handwritten; they should not be typed in small font; they should not be written in paragraphs like an essay. They should be: (a) key points with sub-points; (b) typed in large, easy-to-read font; and (c) organized in a way that allows you to scan them easily, and quickly find what you are looking for.

4. Use humour, but use it the right way. Perry tried several times to use humour to defuse the situation, but he went about it the wrong way. Instead of poking fun at himself, he ended up making fun of the substantive issues:

• (0:15) “… and the, uh, what’s the third one there? Let’s see …” Remember the issue he is discussing—closing down a federal agency. He was just too glib about the “third one” as he tried to remember it. I doubt that many federal agency employees or their families found it funny.

• (0:25 – 0:30) In response to a suggestion by Mitt Romney that the third agency was the Environmental Protection Agency: “EPA! There you go! No, I’m kidding. Hah! [Slaps table.]” If Perry was looking for a quick way to alienate environmentalists, he succeeded. Worse, the line resulted in Perry having to offer a pitiful “No sir, no sir” to the moderator who asked if he was serious.

• (0:57) “Oops.” Really? “Oops”?! It’s not like he forgot to take out the garbage. He forgot which government agency he is planning to close!

Perry should have directed the humour toward himself. He could have, at the same time, taken a good-natured shot at his rivals. (After all, this is politics.) So, for example, he could have said something along the lines of “Clearly, I’ve been spending too much time around Mitt Romney.” Or, because he drew a blank while looking at Ron Paul, he might have said, “I’m sorry, I was momentarily hypnotized by Congressman Paul’s tie.” The important thing is to take yourself lightly but treat the issues with the utmost respect.

5. Don’t just say that you can’t remember; promise to find the answer. If you don’t know the answer to a question or if you forget your point, don’t just leave it at that, like Perry did. Instead, promise to find the answer and come back to it. Of course, in a televised debate, you don’t have the luxury of phoning the office or checking your email during a coffee break. Either you remember the answer or you find it in your (well organized) notes. (See Point 3 above.) In fact, later in the debate Perry did manage that the third agency was the Department of Energy, but by then it was too late.

Do you have any thoughts on Perry’s brain freeze? Or do you have any other ideas about how to handle the situation when you forget what you wanted to say?

My sincere thanks to all of you who have visited this blog. It has been a pleasure writing it. I am glad that so many of you find it useful, and greatly appreciate all the comments, emails, social media shares and constructive feedback.

Until the next post …

At 2:00 a.m., Anika’s turn to speak finally came.

Anika is to be commended for her presentation. By her own admission, she “hates public speaking” and was very nervous. There is certainly a lot that could be said about the ways in which she could improve her public speaking skills. But that would miss the point.

Anika is to be commended because she had the courage to speak in front of others—in a very public forum, no less—on a subject about which she cares deeply: preserving Toronto’s public libraries. Notwithstanding her nerves, Anika chose to speak rather than remain silent. I’m glad she did; her words clearly resonated with the audience.

We can all learn a lesson from Anika’s speech. Nerves are a normal part of public speaking. But if our nerves prevent us from sharing our ideas with the world, we are doing ourselves and others a great disservice. In the coming days, I will put up another post with some tips on handling public speaking nerves.

As for Anika, I hope that this experience bolsters her confidence and that she soon finds herself in front of other audiences. I suspect that she has many good ideas to share. With practice, persistence and patience, she could become an accomplished speaker.

For more on Anika’s story, here is an article from the Toronto Star. Thanks to my friend and fellow public speaker, Chris Colaço, for sending it to me.