To hide it or not to hide it?
I used to hide it. I’d put my hands in my pockets or behind my back and hope that nobody noticed. If I had to stand in front of the class and speak from note cards or read an essay, I’d bring a clipboard or ask if I could use a lectern for my papers, so that the kids on the front row wouldn’t see my hands shaking and either try to comfort me—blabbing about how I just needed to imagine people in their underwear—or do side nods at each other to take a look at my hands, thinking I wouldn’t notice. As if I didn’t have eyes.
Mostly my tremor was just annoying. It didn’t seem to matter if I was out-of-my-mind nervous or still-water calm, it’d pop up whenever it wanted to and still does. It’s always there when I’m nervous, but it happens just as much when I’m quiet and even when I’m happy or excited about something, like last Sunday, when I was standing in the sanctuary in the middle of 19 fourth and fifth graders, getting ready to practice for our new acolyte dedication in worship. “WOW, Miss Becky,” a child said, grabbing my hand. “Your hands are like butterflies! Shaky shaky shaky!”
The rest of the kids froze and looked at me big-eyed. Would this be embarrassing to me? Would I find her comment rude?
