He felt her eyes upon him like a touch. He held her gaze for a long breathless moment. His emotions almost strangled him as she drew nearer. Her fingers shyly caressed his shoulders Her face was close to his and he drank in every detail of her soft skin, the desire in her eyes, her eager parted lips as she breathed into his ear…..

“Look out, you old goat! Watch where you’re going!”

Jolted back to reality, Ron almost fell off his bicycle as he swerved to miss the jogger.

Silly old fool! He chided himself. Daydreaming like a lovesick teenager!

He had been unable to get Lola out of his mind, since meeting her again after forty years. He wondered why she had never married. She was certainly good looking, even now.

Lola was attracted to him too, he thought. Of course she was always very shy. It would have seemed forward of her to invite him to her house, so when she found he did odd jobs to supplement his pension, she seemed eager to use it as a pretext.

Ron dismounted his bicycle at Lola’s gate. The curtains at the next door window moved as the gate squeaked open.

Lola came to the door. “Come on in,” she called. “I’ve got the bed ready.”

Ron felt his face redden. Could this be the same Lola – the prim shy Lola he had known?

Tingling excitement leapt through his veins as he followed her down the hall leading to the bedroom. His arm brushed against Lola as he entered the room, sending ripples of anticipation through him.

The bed had been stripped and was propped on its side against the wall.

“It’s such a relief to find someone to do odd jobs,” said Lola. “See how this leg has come loose. I’ve been afraid the bed will collapse under me.”

Ron swallowed hard and reached for his handkerchief to mop his perspiring face. “I’ll soon fix that.” He heard his voice coming from a long way off.

Lola held the leg of the bed steady while he worked. Her proximity stirred his senses and set his pulse racing.

Lola was profuse with her gratitude as Ron completed the task. “There’s something else I want to ask of you,” she said. “I hope you won’t think I’m too presumptuous.”

Her touch on his arm sent a quick quiver through his body.

She led him to the kitchen. “It’s the sink,” she explained. “The water drains away so slowly. There must be a blockage.”

Ron wiped his perspiring hands and crawled under the sink. He unscrewed the full U pipe and emptied the slimy water into the bucket Lola provided. He peered up through the gap.

Lola picked up the bucket. “I’ll just empty this,” she said.

She poured the bucket of water down the sink.

Ron bumped his head on the sink as he leapt out, spitting and spluttering. His ardour receded as he rubbed the lump on his head in profane silence.

Lola, full of apologies, tried to mop him with a tea towel.

“Oh dear,” she cried. “Your coat is wet. And your shirt, too. Let me put them in the sun to dry.”

Numbly Ron allowed Lola to help him out of his coat, then his shirt. He felt her eyes upon him like a touch. He held her gaze for a long breathless moment. His emotions almost strangled him as she drew nearer. Her fingers shyly caressed his shoulders Her face was close to his and he drank in every detail of her soft skin, the desire in her eyes, her eager parted lips, which took his breath away.

Ron turned from her suddenly. He just couldn’t bear the smell of garlic!

Are you alright?” asked Lola.

“Yes, of course,” answered Ron. “But I just remembered something I have to do. I’m sorry, but I must go now.”

“Already!” Lola was clearly disappointed. “Look, you’re shaking! Let me make you a cup of tea. I’m afraid I’ve made you work too hard.”

“No thank you, I’m quite alright.” Ron’s legs felt like jelly and barely held him up. “But I really have to go.”

Tossing his coat and shirt over his arm, he hurried shakily to his bike. Lola followed anxiously.

“I’m sorry I tired you out,” she called, as he pedalled away. “I hope you’ll have enough strength to ride home!”

The curtain next door dropped back into place as Lola’s neighbour hurried to phone her friends.

I am a law-abiding citizen. I follow the rules of the road, observe sprinkling hours and try to obey the Ten Commandments. But there is one private peccadillo I delight in.I discovered it when I was about nine years old. I was a timid, compliant child, easily overlooked in a crowded shop and last to be chosen on a school sports team. It was a secret sin I hugged to myself. No one need ever know. It was an act of defiance, a bid for freedom from the tyrannies of this world. An assertion of my true self.

My mother had given me the privilege of making the jelly for our family dinner. This was a job of considerable responsibility since it entailed using boiling water and resisting the impulse to eat all the jelly crystals. As I read the directions on the packet, I realized that here was a way of snubbing authority. If I destroyed the evidence immediately, no one would ever find out. The Aeroplane Jelly people could hardly check on every packet they sold, could they? Who did they think they were anyway?

I made the jelly without spilling a drop or eating any crystals. Quickly, I dropped the packet into the kitchen tidy bin. It landed on the side on which was printed in bold commanding letters: “Open other end.”

And to this day I have always opened packets from the wrong end!

Hold it!!Don’t pick up that pen! Don’t touch that typewriter!

So, you are unique, you are witty, you have learned from life and are an inspiration to mankind. You could write a book – if only you had time.

Cling to that dream – that inflated dream we all share. It is your life belt, your sanity preserver. It buoys you up when the tide turns against you. But touch earth, try to make that dream a reality, and your ego deflates and your self esteem flounders.

Just try expressing your unique personality on paper – your witty thoughts, your shrewd observations. Your brain grows numb, and the words wither and die as you discover what is really in your mind. The blank page tells it all.

You don’t know where to start. You attempt a few clumsy words, scribble them out and start again. You make notes; you doodle. Why do you torture yourself? Your back aches. Your head hurts. The wastepaper bin overflows.

So does the laundry basket; and dinner is ruined again. Your family complains of neglect as they hunt for clean socks. Overgrown weeds make your house look deserted. The neighbours shake their heads knowingly.

Even your friends doubt your sanity. They shrug and leave you alone with your imaginary characters. Some regard you suspiciously, guarding their words, lest they appear in print.

You are always watching, eavesdropping on conversations in search of a new story. Life is no longer simple. Every situation is fraught with possible drama. Your mind strains to describe each incident, Sleep eludes you.

You seek comfort from your favourite books, but you no longer read for enjoyment. Like a mechanic, you must take apart and analyse each part to discover why it works. You compare it with your own futile attempts and feel flatter than a typewriter ribbon.

You finally face the truth when it takes a week to write the first draft of an argumentative essay. The soul-destroying task takes precedence over all your activities as it is revised and reshaped to your dissatisfaction. But what use is it? Will anyone want to read it? It will hardly benefit mankind unless it is given to the waste paper collectors for recycling.

Can you stand the pain of having your dream shredded? Your self-esteem reduced to confetti? Stick to your alibi of not enough time. Better to remain in ignorance.

Darkness. Complete utter darkness, pressing on his brain like all the mountains of the world. Silent, penetrating darkness. No light, no sound, in the eerie empty stillness.

“Where…where am I?” He thought. ” I can’t see. Everything black…no light…just…nothing!”

“I’ve gone blind!” His heart beat wildly in his neck. “Is anyone there?”

“There?” answered the echo.

“Where am I? Help! I’m blind!”

“Blind! Blind!” shrieked the echo.

“I’m alone,” he thought in rising panic. “There’s no one there. No one can help me. What has happened? I can’t be dreaming…How could I? I just woke up.”

“It’s like waking from death. Death! ” His breath came in tortured gasps. “Oh, no! No, I can’t be…Surely I’m not dead!” He groped frantically in the darkness. “I’m sitting on something, ” he thought. There’s a wall on this side. No, it feels like a pane of glass. I’m sitting by a window. It feels like …yes, it’s a train…but where am I going?”

“Where am I going?” he shouted. It was suddenly the most important question of his entire life. But only echoes answered in the eerie stillness.

“Hot,” he gasped, “it’s getting hotter, hotter. Oh, help, help! I must be on a train to hell!”

His screams ripped the empty silence. The echoes returned maniacally, taunting him, mocking, louder and louder, a melee of demon shrieks mingling with his own. Sweat saturated his clothes and streamed down his shaking body. A fetid stench clung in the air. He was aware of a presence in the darkness. Something sinister, malevolent.

“Get away from me!” he screamed. “Don’t touch me What do you want from me?”

“Your soul.” The voice was thick with menace and power.

“Who…who are you?” he whispered hoarsely.

“I am Beelzebub, your master. I have come to take you home.”

“Get out! I don’t belong to you!”

“Then who do you belong to? Have you pledged your allegiance to the other?”

“You mean Go…”

“Don’t say it! Don’t say that name!” screamed the demon. “No one utters that name here. I don’t see his stamp on you.”

“Well, no, but…”

“Then you are mine!”

“But I can’t go to hell! I’ve never hurt anyone. I’ve led a good clean life.”

“Ha, ha!” The hideous laughter echoed in the black void. “Only one person lived a perfect life.”

“You mean…”

“Don’t say the name!” the demon screamed. “Yes, He would have saved you if you’d asked, but now it’s too late.”

“Too late, late, late!” Shrieked the echoes.

“But…but I didn’t realise. I’ve done nothing to deserve this. If I could have one more chance…”

“You’ve had your chance!” roared the demon. “Now you are mine!”

“No, no, never!” screamed the man, lashing out in a frenzy – hitting, kicking, screaming as he felt the steely claws clutching him, choking him.

Demon voices shrieked and roared as he was sucked into a maelstrom of unspeakable terror. Faster and faster he was whirled, accelerating to a terrifying tempo and then falling, falling down, down into the abyss.

“Help, help me!” he cried desperately. “Oh God, help me. Oh, please God, forgive me. Just give me one more chance. Help me Jesus!”

“Don’t say it!” shrieked the demon in agony. “Don’t utter that name!”

Suddenly the man stopped falling and he felt himself being lifted and carried toward a light. Nearer and nearer the light shone, brighter and brighter. It hurt his eyes. He couldn’t bear to look. Beyond the light, he was aware of a white robed figure, looking searchingly into his face.

“Yes, he is one of my patients.” Said the doctor, replacing the penlight in the pocket of his white coat. “He suffers from narcolepsy. He can just fall into a deep sleep at any time. Must have gone to sleep on the train and woke up after it had been shunted into the tunnel.”

“That lazy guard!” fumed the stationmaster. “He’s supposed to check all the carriages before he leaves. Poor fellow,” he appraised the limp figure before him. “It must have been a frightening experience. Just as well I heard him screaming. But how did he get in such a state…the scratches…the blood…the torn clothes…he looks as though something attacked him.”

The doctor shrugged. “Narcolepsy can cause hallucinations,” he replied. “Who knows what demons he was fighting.”

“Did you see his eyes?” whispered a bystander. “He had the look of a man who has been to hell and back!”

My doctor mentioned that one of his patients had gone to sleep on the train and thought he’d gone to hell when he woke up at the end of the line.
That was the same week our creative writing class was asked to write a horror story…

“Damn!” The teacups on the table rattled in their saucers as Liz slammed down the morning mail.”What’s the matter?” Bob looked absently over the top of his newspaper.

“The Simpsons have sent us a Christmas Card.”

“So?”

“We didn’t send them one.”

“Why not?” Bob tried to concentrate on the comic strip.

“I was waiting to see if they’d send us one. It’s just like them to leave it till the last minute.”

Bob sighed and lowered his newspaper. “Well, don’t waste one of the expensive cards. The Simpsons are not very important. Did you send one to my boss?”

“Of course. I sent the one that said ‘What happened when Santa got stuck in Mr. and Mrs. Ball’s chimney?’

“You what!!!” She had his complete attention now.

“I’m only joking, stupid! I sent that one to your brother Ted.”

“Don’t frighten me like that! Well, Ted should appreciate it. Has he sent his usual $10 for the kids?”

“Oh Bob, they were so disappointed. You know how Timmy and Donna shake each envelope o see if there’s money in it?”

“Yeah, cute.”

Liz reached for a card on the sideboard. “He sent this.”

Opening the card she read aloud, “A gift has been made on your behalf to help feed starving children in Africa.”

Bob shook his head disapprovingly. “That’s a rotten thing to do to a kid.”

“Yes, what’s the use in sending it to Africa? They probably don’t even know it’s Christmas. Anyway, they’re used to going without.”

“Have you ordered our turkey, Liz?”

“Yes, and a big ham.”

“Good.” Bob patted his ample stomach in anticipation. He eyed the cards on the sideboard. “Who is that one from?”

“The one with the manger scene?” Liz picked it up. “It’s from Auntie Lil.” She read out, “Blessings at Christmas.”

“Huh! Trust her to bring religion into everything.”

“Yes, she’s nearly as bad as old Mrs. Scott over the road. I suppose we’ll have to get her some little thing. She always buys presents for the kids.”

“That’s alright. Mrs. Scott has no family to spend money on. But does she have to come over every Christmas morning, Liz? Christmas is a family time. We shouldn’t have to bother with the old biddies in our street.”

“Oh, she doesn’t stay long, Bob – just to wish us a Merry Christmas, and the kids love to get a gift from her, Anyway, don’t want to offend her. She’s useful sometimes when I need someone to baby-sit.”

“I suppose so.”

“After all, Christmas is a time for giving – and she does get a kick out of buying things for Timmy and Donna.”

“Mmm….I wonder if Mum bought those golf clubs I want. Did you get anything for your sister?”

“Don’t be silly, Bob! We haven’t been speaking all the year. I’m not a hypocrite!”

This was an attempt at satire, based on comments I have heard in real life.

Good Neighbours

The aroma of brewing coffee welcomed Jack as he scraped the grass clippings from his boots on Chrissie’s doormat.

He felt protective toward his young neighbour who had been left with four children to raise and whose slight strength and nervous disposition seemed inadequate for the task.

“Thank you very much, Jack.” The cup rattled in the saucer as she placed it on the table in front of him. “The yard looks a lot better now. I don’t know how I’d manage without you.”

Jack was a good neighbour, always willing to help and unable to say no to anyone. His generous nature had led him once into a disastrous marriage, but he had survived the turbulent years and was determined not to relinquish his regained freedom.

Chrissie’s shook as she passed the sugar, spilling a little onto the tablecloth. Jack looked up sharply.

“You’re crook today, Chrissie.” It was a statement, rather than a question.

She shrugged. “Oh, I still have this headache.” She stirred four teaspoons of sugar into her coffee.

“I’ll do Lucy’s yard tomorrow,” said Jack. ‘Cripes, it’s strange, looking across the road at her empty house. When is she coming back?”

“Oh, I’ve just had a letter from her.” Chrissie produced a bulky envelope from her pocket. “She’ll be back in a few weeks, but not to stay. She’s going to pack up and return to England to live with her sister.”

“I thought she didn’t hit it off with her sister.”

“She doesn’t. She sounded heart-broken in her letter. Wasn’t it awful, Jack – after saving for all those years to go back and visit her family, then here husband had a heart attack and died as they got off the plane!”

Jack and Chrissie had been shocked when they heard the news.

“He was a good bloke, old Harry.” Jack helped himself to a piece of cake. “He would have been about my age, wouldn’t he?”

“Yes, I think they were both in their late sixties. Lucy looks younger though, doesn’t she?”

“Too right!” Jack’s mental picture was more evocative than Chrissie’s. Lucy was an attractive woman whose passion had not been satisfied by her husband.

“But why is she set on going back to England? She loves Australia. She has her home here and her son lives in Brisbane.”

“That’s the trouble. Its awful, Jack. Her husband didn’t leave a will, so her son gets half the house and he wants to sell it.”

Jack snorted. “Some son!”

“I know,” said Chrissie. “They don’t get on. He accused her of breaking up his first marriage.”

“Hmmm, she is a bit of a stirrer. You should know Chrissie. She always wants you to do things her way.”

“Yes, but can her son do that? Surely he can’t legally put her out of her home.”

“I don’t know. I’ll see what I can find out. Someone has to stick up for her rights.”

“Anyway, ” continued Chrissie, “she has to go back because she is English. Her son told her she wont be able to get a pension here.”

“What a load of bull!” Jack exploded. “The rotten bastard just wants her out of his way. He’s only thinking of himself.”

He poured more coffee.

“Tell you what, ” he said. “I’ll pop in to Centrelink tomorrow and have a yarn with them. I’m sure she get some sort of pension.”

Chrissie still looked troubled. Jack watched as she sugared her second cup of coffee.

“Cripes, Chrissie! I don’t know how you stay as thin as a rake handle with all that sugar!”

“I need the energy.” Her hands had stopped shaking, but she looked pale and drawn.

“Lucy really wants to stay here. Listen to this.” Chrissie unfolded the heavily perfumed letter. The scent evoked for Jack vivid memories, which he had not shared with Chrissie.

“If only I could live in my little house,” Lucy had written. “I know I would be alright with you next door, Chrissie. You could visit me every day and we would have lovely outings together in your car. Of course, I would miss my Harry, but who knows? I may marry again before too long. How is Jack? I often think of him…”

Jack slowly stirred his coffee and drank it in silence. “You know,” he said at last. “Lucy’s got no friends here beside you and me. She might be better off in England with her family.”

A look of relief passed across Chrissie’s weary face.

“Do you really think so jack?”

Jack wavered for just a second.

“Yeah, I reckon we shouldn’t interfere.”

“What’s for dinner?” It was Ben’s standard greeting, as he burst in through the doorway and littered the floor with his schoolbag, sports clothes and shoes.

“Sausages.” His mother quickly snatched the plate as the cat reached for it. “Get down, Smokey! Here, Ben, put this thieving cat outside.”

“Ugh! Not sausages again!” As Ben pushed the clamouring cat out the back door, two more cats rushed inside.

“If you don’t like the food here, ” his mother said equably. “you can go along to Grandma’s.”

“Yeah,” Ben grinned. He had fallen for that one before. “I’ll bet she’s having sausages.”

“What did you let those cats in for? Now Kitty wants to go out the front door.”

Ben opened the door. “She didn’t want to come in,” he explained. “She just wanted to go through.”

“It’s like being on Central Station!”

“Guess what!” Ben bit the end off a sausage and dipped it in tomato sauce. ” I’m getting a rat tomorrow.”

“Oh, no you’re not!” His mother was emphatic.

“He could live in my room,” Ben continued confidently, “and sit on my desk when I do my homework. I’d carry him around in my pocket. He’d be my friend.”

“I’m not having a rat in the house.”

That’s what she said when I wanted mice thought Ben. “A white rat, with a pink nose and twitchy whiskers,” he coaxed. “You’d love him.’

“So would the cats.”

“He’d be alright out in the shed. That’s where we kept the mice.”

“Yes, and who looked after those blasted mice?”

He shrugged. “Oh, I was just a kid, then. I’d feed him every day.”

“They stink. It took years to get the smell out of the shed.”

Ben slipped a piece of sausage to the cat purring in anticipation under the table. “Rats don’t smell like mice.”

“No, they smell like rats, and rats stink, too. They make a filthy mess.”

“I’d clean the cage every week.”

“Every week!” his mother snorted. “I had to clean the mouse cage every day – dirty, stinking things!”

“Well, I’ll clean it every day.”

“You didn’t even make your bed this morning!”

He looked sheepish. “I didn’t have time.”

“How would you find time to clean a rat’s cage?”

“I’ll get up early.”

“Hah! Do you know any more jokes? Look, when you have your own house you can keep all the rats you want, but I’m not having one here.”

Ben offered his greasy fingers for the cat to clean. “I’ll just keep it for the weekend, then.”

“What’s the use of that?”

“It’s my science assignment. I have to have a rat so I can study animal behaviour.”

“You mean the whole class has to get a rat?”

“No, just me.”

“Why you?”

“I volunteered.”

His mother sighed in exasperation. “What did you do that for?”

“All the other kids have mean mothers who won’t let them keep rats.”

“Well, tomorrow you can tell them that your mother is the meanest of all.”

“I told them you wouldn’t mind because you used to keep mice.”

His mother gritted her teeth. “That is precisely why I won’t have a rat.”

“Just for the weekend,” he pleaded. ” I’ll take it back on Monday.”

“Uh, uh!” she shook her head vehemently.

“Why not?”

“It wouldn’t work. By Monday, the darn thing would be part of the family and we’d be stuck with it for the rest of its life. Do you know how long rats live? Five years! How would you like to clean a rat cage every day for five years?”

Ben carefully considered the question. ‘Well, I still have to do the assignment.”

“But why a rat? Can’t you study some other animal? Why can’t you do an assignment about our cats?”

“They’re too dumb to run through a maze.”

“Surely it doesn’t have to be a maze. Just write about the way they behave.”

“They don’t behave.”

“I mean the way they act. Oh, look, Huckle wants to go out now. Those cats think we were put on earth just to open and close doors for them!”

She got up and opened the door. A large cat rushed in with something in its mouth. “No, Smokey, no! Get out! Don’t bring it in here!”

“What’s he got?” Ben jumped up excitedly. “Look, it’s a mouse … no, it’s a rat… a baby rat!”

“Take it out Smokey. No, no, don’t drop it there, you stupid cat!”

“It’s still alive!” shouted Ben. “Oh, thankyou Smokey, it’s just what I wanted.”

“Quick catch it! Look out! Oh no, it’s gone under the fridge! We’ll never get it now.”

“I’ll coax it out later with some cheese.” Ben’s eyes were shining. I’ll hide it in my room, he thought. I can carry it around in my pocket. It will sit on my desk when I do my homework. It will be my friend…..

The assignment was to write a dialogue in which one person tries to persuade the other.
This was easy – I just took an incident from our chaotic family life.

(Told by Bill)They would’ve been antiques, I reckon. Boy, some of ‘em must’ve been nearly as old as me Mum! Spaghetti Boulders, Fruit Salads, Bird Cages and Cats Eyes….just about any kid in the school would’ve given his eye teeth for Pete’s marbles – ‘specially Danny. He was always hangin’ round. He said sooner or later he’d get them off Pete.

We were havin’ lunch, Me and Pete, under the Gum Tree at the bottom of the schoolyard. I was eatin’ my Peanut Paste and pickle sandwiches. Pete had Vegemite again. Every day he has Vegemite sandwiches. You’d think he’d get sick of it.

Some of the kids had finished lunch and were settin’ up their marbles in the dirt. “You’d better hurry up,” I told Pete, “if you want a game before the bell rings.”

He stuffed the rest of his sandwich in his mouth and chewed hard. “Yow!”

“What’s up?” I asked.

“Me loose tooth’s come out.”

Half his luck! I’d been trying to wiggle mine loose for weeks!

“Now you’ll get money from the Tooth Fairy.” I told him.

He shuffled his feet on the ground and sent a cloud of dust over our shoes. “Nah, Mum says there’s no such thing as fairies.”

I felt awful sorry for Pete, in spite of his marbles. No Tooth Fairy and Vegemite sandwiches every day!

“Why dontcha try it anyway?” I suggested. “Just leave it in a glass of water.”

Pete shook his head. “It don’t work. Grandma leaves hers in water every night.”

Boy, he’s dumb! I shrugged. “Well, I got money for my last tooth.”

“How much?”

I leant over and whispered in his ear. Danny was moochin’ past, eyein’ Pete’s marble bag and fiddlin’ with that stupid necklace his Uncle brought him from New Guinea. I didn’t want him to hear.

Pete’s eyes nearly popped. “Phew!” He tried to whistle through the gap in his teeth. I rubbed the spit out of my eye.

“That much, eh?”

“Yep.”

You can tell when Pete’s thinking hard. His freckles stand out – or it might be specks of Vegemite. “Tell ya what,” he said. “how ’bout you take my tooth home to your place, and the Tooth Fairy can leave the money there for me.”

“Yeah….” I thought quickly. “On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“We go halves.”

“It’s a deal.” Pete grinned. The rim of Vegemite curving from one ear to the other made him look like a clown.

Mum looked at me kinda strange when I told her I had another tooth for the fairy, but she didn’t say nothin’. I left it in a glass of water that night. Beats me how a fairy can fish it out, but sure as you like, next mornin’ there was a shiny coin in the glass.

On the way to school I stopped at the corner shop and bought swap cards and a new marble bag. I had enough change left to give Pete his half. He was waitin’ at the school gate lookin’ fit to burst.

“Hey Bill, look what I got!” he yelled. “I swapped my marbles for Danny’s shark tooth necklace. Now we’re really in business!”

This story was inspired by a family incident. Joel (my eldest son) had prised out his loose tooth while I was driving them home from school. He considered himself too old for the tooth Fairy, so he threw it out of the car window, into long grass beside the road. As soon as we arrived home, his younger brother Ben jumped on his bike and disappeared for the rest of the afternoon. He came back just before dark, triumphantly brandishing the tooth. The Tooth Fairy came to him that night.

Tonight we are going to look at the most important skill you can learn in Toastmasters. With this skill, you can win friends and influence people, get along with your co-workers and have them do what you want them to. This skill is Evaluation.

What is evaluation?

Immediate feedback. Encouragement. Helpful advice.It used to be called “Critique”. Constructive criticism. The dictionary definition of evaluation is, “Ascertaining the value of.” “Appraising carefully.” I like to think of it as “Digging for diamonds.”

How does evaluation help the speaker? Evaluation provides immediate feedback. It reinforces the speaker’s strengths and offers ways to improve. It builds and maintains self esteem. It motivates the speaker to return and give another speech – an even better speech.
How does evaluation help us?

Evaluation improves our listening skills. It provides an opportunity for impromptu speaking. Evaluation is one of life’s most important skills, when you use the basic rule of presenting an evaluation, that is, praise, say what you want done, then praise again. This is the best way to get people to do what you want them to. You can successfully raise you children using this method. You can even train your dog! (“Here boy, SIT!” “Good dog!”)
How does Evaluation help our club?

Evaluation sets the standard for the club. It shows that the Toastmasters programme is working. Without effective evaluations, you don’t have a quality club.
What is a quality evaluation? To be effective, an evaluation should motivate the speaker to improve. If you just try to make him feel good by telling him his speech is wonderful when it isn’t, then you are just wasting everyone’s time and dragging down the standards of the organisation.
What should we do before we evaluate a speech?

An evaluator needs to prepare. Talk to the speaker. Show that you are interested.
Contact the speaker in advance and discuss the manual objectives and the evaluation guidelines.
Ask about any concerns regarding the speech or the speakers abilities.
Get to know the speaker. Observe their earlier speeches. Look at previous evaluators comments in their manual and note whether the speaker has worked on their suggestions for improvement.
Consider the objectives in the manual. Find out what the speaker is aiming for. And don’t expect him to run before he can crawl. For instance, I’ve heard evaluators of the first 2 or 3 speeches suggest that the speaker could have used more gestures. Now, that is the objective for the 4^th speech and I don’t think it is fair to bring it up when evaluating an earlier speech. Of course, if he is already attempting gestures, he should be praised for his efforts, but it shouldn’t be expected of him at this stage.
Presenting the evaluation.
Tonight, I’m concentrating mainly on how to present the evaluation. There’s not time to discuss all the points you could look for.
So how do we go about delivering an evaluation?

An evaluation is a three minute mini-spech. It needs an opening, a body and a conclusion.

Can you suggest a good opening?

Acknowledge the speaker. “This evening we had the privilege of listening to an interesting and informative speech by….” What other ways could you describe the speech? (Challenging, thought proving, humorous, inspiring, etc)

There’s your opening. Now for the body.

You want to reinforce the strong points of the speech.

Say what you liked about the speech and tell why. You could say, “I liked the way he used body language, for example, when he said this, he did this!”

Think of one or two more things to commend.

Next we come to points for improvement. Limit it to no more than two. We don’t want to overwhelm the speaker – and we do want him to come back!

Don’t say, “You did that wrong!” You are not issuing a judgement on behalf of the club, you are just telling what effect the speech had on you personally.

Personalise your language

Use phrases such as, “It seemed to me…”

“ I feel that…”

“ I believe…”

Instead of saying, “He spoke too fast, you might say something like, “If he had slowed his rate of speaking, I would have found it easier to take in the excellent points he was making.”

We usually use the third person rather than address the speaker directly. It brings in the whole audience and takes some of the pressure off the speaker.

Now for the conclusion.

How can you close in a way that will make the speaker want to start preparing his next speech when he goes home?

Summarise what you have already said.

Comment on what you think are his strongest points and congratulate the speaker on his effort.

Evaluation teaches us to think of the other person. To ask ourselves, “What advice can I give that will help him to do better?

Remember the diamond cutter. Just as the diamond grinder hones and polishes the diamond, you are honing and polishing a speaker. Slowly, gently, little by little, evaluation will bring out the potential and brilliance of our members.

Big Brother – or Sister

Don’t you just love it when someone asks you about something you know! People often ask me questions, but I don’t always know the answers. Questions like- “Have you seen my car keys?” “What did you just come in the room to get? ” Where were you last Monday?”

But I love it if they ask me about Toastmasters! And I felt thrilled and honoured recently when a new member asked me to be her mentor.

What is a mentor?

A MENTOR SERVES AS A ROLE MODEL, COACH, AND CONFIDANTE, OFFERING KNOWLEDGE, INSIGHT, PERSPECTIVE OR WISDOM USEFUL TO THE MENTEE.

You’ll realise of course, that when my mentee chose me, she hadn’t seen me trying to chair a meeting!

But there is a lot I can help her with. It’s like being a big sister.

Have you noticed if you have more than one child in your family, the younger ones seem to pick up things at an earlier age than the first one did? That’s because they have the older one as a role model. My three younger sisters learned much more quickly than I did, but they wouldn’t have advanced nearly as far without me! Of course, my parents didn’t always approve of the things I taught them!

Well, in Toastmasters, a mentor is like a big brother or sister to the newer members.

We all know how daunting it can be; joining a club like Toastmasters, and watching the more experienced members perform their roles with confidence and skill. We think we will never be able to do that!

But I can help my mentee…

LEARN THE PROGRAMME. Explain the speech requirements in the basic manual. What is expected when she is assigned certain roles at the meetings.

LEARN CLUB STANDARDS AND CUSTOMS. How things are done in Toastmasters.

DEVELOP CONFIDENCE. Explain to her that she is among understanding friends – that we are all learning at our own individual level. Help her to realise that Toastmasters is a safe friendly environment to practice her communication skills. Give her the knowledge she needs which will enable her to

PARTICIPATE MORE. Encourage her to become involved in Club activities so that she will receive optimum benefit.

Help her to QUICKLY LEARN SPEAKING SKILLS. By offering encouragement and assistance if required as she prepares her first speaking assignments. By pointing out her strong points and offering constructive feedback when required.

Of course, my mentee is not the only one who will benefit from the relationship.

I discovered years ago, that the best way to learn something is to teach it to someone else. While I am explaining things to my mentee,

I will be REFINING THE SKILLS I ALREADY HAVE. and LEARNING NEW SKILLS.

And there are other rewards.

MENTORS…

LEARN FROM THEIR MENTEES. Mentees often offer new information and perspectives.

REMAIN PRODUCTIVE. Mentors continue to make use of their own knowledge and skills.

DO SOMETHING FOR OTHERS. Its an opportunity to give back some of the benefits we have reaped from Toastmasters

RECEIVE RECOGNITION. Earn the respect of fellow members, and gratitude of the mentee. I know my mentee is grateful. When I helped her with her speech, she brought me a chocolate bar.

The club as a whole benefits. Clubs that encourage members to mentor one another;

HAVE MORE MEMBERS. Turnover is reduced because members quickly become involved in the club and develop friendships.

HAVE MORE SATISFIED MEMBERS. Members continue to learn and grow and enjoy the club experience.

RETAIN MORE MEMBERS. When members are satisfied, they stay in their clubs longer.

A Mentor needs special qualities. You have to be

AVAILABLE. There’s no point in offering to become a Mentor if you are too busy to spend some time talking to your mentee and answering any questions they might have. And don’t assume that your mentee doesn’t need help if she doesn’t contact you. Many new toastmasters are too shy to ask.

You need PATIENCE, remembering that everyone advances at their own rate. And be prepared to explain things over again if necessary.

Be SENSITIVE to their needs. Use tact in encouraging and motivating. Never betray their confidences.

RESPECTFUL. You might not always agree with your mentees point of view, but you can respect your differences.

FLEXIBLE. Your mentee may not accept your advice and choose to do things her own way. Or she may turn to another Toastmaster for advice. There’s nothing wrong with that. I think it’s even advisable if your skills are not strong in certain areas. For instance I would understand if my mentee asked another Toastmaster for advice when she is chairman.

BE SUPPORTIVE OF THE CLUB. Show pride in your club and what it can do for members. It goes without saying that a mentor would never speak disparagingly of the club or fellow members.

You need to have KNOWLEDGE about your club and the Toastmasters programme. Or at least know where to find out the necessary information. But for goodness sake don’t try to impart all your information at once. My son does that when I ask him about the computer – and I feel more confused than ever!

You must be CONFIDENT yourself if you are to instill confidence in your mentee. Keep a positive outlook, but don’t be afraid to let your mentee see that you have weaknesses too. We are all human!

You must be PREPARED TO LISTEN. Acting as a sounding board is sometimes all the help required. A friend once came to me with a problem. After a while, she exclaimed, “That’s it! I knew you would be able to help me!” I hadn’t said a thing, but putting her problem into words had helped her to see things clearly.

SHOW CONCERN for your mentee. You must really care and want to help your mentee to grow.

Of course, if a mentor/ mentee relationship is to be successful, mentees have responsibilities and obligations as well.

Mentees should be…

EAGER TO LEARN. Mentees must be willing to take on new challenges.

RECEPTIVE. Mentees must be open to feedback, viewing it as an opportunity to improve themselves.

OPEN TO NEW IDEAS. Mentees should be able to see things from other perspectives.

LOYAL. Mentees do not violate confidences or trust.

GRATEFUL. They don’t have to bring chocolate, but Mentees appreciate the help their mentors are giving.

Usually, by the time mentees have developed to the point where they are functioning effectively on their own, the relationship has changed from that of mentor/mentee into a strong warm friendship. Mentors can find new mentees to help and former mentees now have the skills to become mentors themselves.

And don’t think mentors are just for new members! There are bound to be members in our club who excel in some skill that you are lacking. Why not ask them for advice? As I said at the beginning, people love to talk about what they know. Or is there someone who could benefit from your knowledge and experience? Then pass it on. That’s what Toastmasters is all about, isn’t it?