Joseph Wurzburg (back to contents)

I remember when I was meeting every Tuesday and Thursday with Charles Darwin, Winston Churchill, Marilyn Monroe, James Earl Jones, and my speech therapist. I sat directly beneath a poster with the pictures of these four strangers in the pale green office of my speech therapist. They looked as if they had nothing in common with each other, much less with me. But the caption, “If you stutter, you’re in good company,” told me we had very much in common. But did they really feel the frustration and pain that I did?

I reflect back on those years of struggle in an attempt to get the right word out. Stuttering on simple words, I became afraid to speak, afraid of being laughed at. I had so much to say, but I felt much more comfort in silence. I dared not raise my hand in class and risk the ridicule of my classmates and friends. Every Tuesday and Thursday, however, it was okay to talk and even to stutter. Speech therapy was hard work, not only because of the grueling exercises and homework, but because of all those days when I had to relinquish my other activities in order to practice oral exercises.

I learned a great deal in speech therapy, much of which had nothing to do with stuttering. I was told not to be afraid to stutter, which meant facing all fears I had associated with speaking. I began to realize that my stuttering inhibited me. Deep inside I wanted my voice to be heard. I desired to be a leader in my community, but my stutter and low self-confidence scared me into thinking that I was not worthy of such responsibility. It was at this point that I remember my mom showing me a newspaper article about stuttering. What struck me most was the line, “Stuttering is the only handicap that people still laugh at.” I was stunned at the use of the word “handicap.” This made me realize that my speech impediment was controlling my life, just like a handicap. The only way I was going to conquer my speech impediment was to live my life the way I wanted, facing my fear of stuttering and ridicule head-on.

I remember making extraordinary efforts to confront my “handicap.” I volunteered for phone committees. I began speaking at school assemblies even though I often ran over my time limit. An occasional extra syllable would pop up unexpectedly, but no one seemed to care. I began speaking in public at my organizational meetings; and during class discussions and group projects, I was no longer afraid of being outspoken or taking control. People began to see me for who I was rather than how I spoke. As I saw myself successfully leading my youth group and the March of Dimes Youth Leadership Council, I began to develop a confidence within myself that made me appreciate and cherish how far I had come. Having won my most challenging battle, I truly believe that I can now conquer anything, from chemistry tests to golf, as long as I persevere and work to the best of my ability. Thanks to the struggle with stuttering, I have learned to make the most of both my strengths and my weaknesses.

Those years were tough and sometimes a little embarrassing, but the same drive, courage, and hard work ethic that pulled me through helped me to achieve my academic, athletic, and extra-curricular goals. I learned something important: the less I feared failure, the less I failed. I am proud of my accomplishments and how far I have come from that scared little boy in the room with four strangers—Charles Darwin, Winston Churchill, Marilyn Monroe, and James Earl Jones. I have since learned who these people are: the scientist, the statesman, the icon, and the actor. I realize that what I thought would be my nemesis became my life-long impetus to succeed. More importantly, I have started to figure out who I am and that I alone am capable of reaching my full potential in life, no matter how many words it takes to get there.

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