Someday I want to reread this and remember every single thing about TED week, so I wrote a lot of words. Below is Part 1, the week leading up to the event. Go to Part 2 to read about everything after arriving at the Keller Auditorium.
On March 8, I got an email from TEDxPortland, which I assumed was advertising their upcoming event. This would be my fourth local TED event, which I enjoy with my friend, Afrita, every year. Always such a great day where I get inspired to care about things I didn’t even know I would care about! But this email was advertising something brand new, something that had never been done at any TED event in the world—an idea booth. They had set up a booth downtown, and were inviting anyone to come and record 90 second videos pitching their idea, with the promise of one (or two) being chosen to give a talk on the big TEDx stage!
First of all, I thought this was brilliant. The team does a great job curating fantastic speakers every year, but what a perfect way to break through the inherent limits of “they don’t know who/what they don’t know.”
Second, I knew immediately that I needed to pitch an idea, and exactly what that idea would be. My idea had been brewing for years, slowly fleshing itself out, and waiting for an opportunity for a larger audience.
Third, I took a close look at the photos and videos, because I’ve rarely seen a photo booth that was wheelchair accessible, and this looked similar. Sure enough, there was a visible step up into the booth. That seemed like a terrible reason to give up on my idea, though, so I contacted the TEDx people, and asked how I could submit my idea. They were very kind and apologetic for the accessibility oversight, and offered to either meet me somewhere to record my idea, or to let me submit my own video via email. I’m perfectly capable of opening up iMovie and talking at my computer for 90 seconds, so I did that.
(Note: This response was perfectly appropriate for this year. Next year, I expect better! Accessibility requirements and info about alternative plans should be posted both on the website and at the physical booth location. Just a little pro tip for anyone planning events and such!)
And then I tried really hard to forget about it! I was sure there were tons of great ideas submitted, and the likelihood of mine being chosen was probably slim. It wasn’t too hard to let it fall to the back of my mind, because my personal life was a giant mess. Every time I turned around, another loved one was facing a huge crisis and in need of major “thoughts and prayers” and any other support I could offer. Life was hard… and I was pretty sure I was making a nuisance of myself to God, begging him to fix things.
TEDx didn’t fall completely out of my brain though. I was aware when the April 5 deadline came, that people would be reviewing all those videos and making a choice. I wondered if it would be wrong to pray about it… Praying for my idea to be chosen didn’t feel right, so I didn’t do it. But I finally found the words that felt right, and I prayed that an idea would be selected that would have the most positive impact in the community. Because that’s the whole point, right? It’s not like I was dying to be on stage; I just wanted good things for the community. I submitted my idea because I believe in its power to do good, but I would wholeheartedly support any idea that could do more good!
Some time passed and I didn’t hear anything back, so I assumed they had chosen someone else. That was fine; I knew it had been a long shot. I just hoped they chose someone good!
Then on Friday, April 13, I started my morning with an email from David Rae, the executive producer and face of TEDxPortland. (It’s important to note here: the big event is scheduled for the next Saturday, April 21.) They weren’t committing to anything, but they wanted to hear more about my idea. Could they call me in an hour? And could I be thinking about five concrete points I could share about my idea?
When David Rae asks, you say yes. That’s just a life rule we all should live by. Thank goodness it was a grading day, so I didn’t have a classroom full of students. I put grading on hold, and spent the next hour furiously scribbling thoughts and arrows all over paper. I also called Nicole, who had been bouncing this particular idea around with me for a couple years. I heard Lin-Manuel in my head, singing “I’m not throwing away my shot…”
Let me add here, I don’t work in the entertainment industry. I don’t work in the corporate world. I know pitching and selling ideas is a thing people do, but I have no clue how it’s done! I didn’t have time to seek advice from wikiHow. I was just going on instinct and authenticity.
The phone call came, and all the important people were on the line, while I sat in my lil’ classroom, waving away everyone who came by with a grading question. (Don’t worry, I followed up afterward!) We chatted for a minute, and then Dave asked if I could get my list of five concepts to them within the next two hours. Not sure if I was doing it right, I just said honestly, “Well, you emailed me an hour ago… So right now I have two lists of five in front of me. One with very specific techniques, the other more general guiding principles. I also have an anecdote about how I came to this work that I feel frames the entire concept quite nicely. I can share as much or as little as you want to hear.” (Spoiler: that “anecdote” was “Jose” in the final talk.)
Apparently this wasn’t the common or expected response? I don’t know. I still don’t know how these things are done. But after a pause, I hear, “Ok, that’s it, we’re just calling it right now. We want you.”
“What? Wait… what? Just like that?”
“Just like that. Are you willing to give a talk next week at TED xPortland?”
“Are you sure? I mean, yes!! Of course I’m willing! But you didn’t even hear my points. Are you sure about this?” (I’m sure the professional idea pitchers don’t try to talk their audience out of saying yes to them… But what can I say? I’m an amateur.)
“We’re sure. If you have the passion and tenacity to pull all that together in an hour, then that’s exactly what we’re looking for. And we already loved your idea. It’s strong, it’s catchy, and we googled it; it doesn’t seem to be in the lexicon. We’re going to make some more phone calls and get at least one other speaker, but we definitely want you.”
(I later found out that one of the other Idea Booth videos was made by a little boy pitching an idea for an airplane that dropped “cash bombs and love bombs and chicken bombs.” I can only assume that TEDx approached him first, and he was busy that weekend, so I was their second choice. Who could compete with love bombs and chicken bombs??)
And then I went back to quietly grading…. Just kidding! Then I launched into a whirlwind of telling my news to everyone I knew, getting a tentative talk outline to them in the next two hours, freaking out, breathing, and completing grading day responsibilities. It was a crazy day, and the volume would only get turned up with each day that followed. My first phone call, of course, was to Afrita, since she’s not only a dear friend, but also my TED buddy! Her excitement level didn’t disappoint, and she gave me the perfect reassurance/advice: “No matter what you say up there, it’s going to be great, because you’re so others-focused. You’re going to bring attention to others and their needs, and people are going to listen.”
The second I emailed that first outline, I already hated it. Over the next couple days, I scrapped it and started fresh at least twice before landing on a strong skeleton. Then I spent the rest of the week refining that.
It was very exciting to meet with the team in their office in the WeWork Custom House that first weekend. I’d always passed by that gorgeous building and wondered whose lives were cool enough to have a reason to go inside. Sitting around the table with Dave and Allen, whose names and faces I knew from years of attending TEDx, and meeting Annatova, who was introduced as my designer but turned out to be something closer to a guardian angel, I heard Hamilton music in my head again, this time singing about “the room where it happens.”
In that powerful room, I got to talk about TECHQUITY. This idea had existed mostly in my head for years, occasionally discussed with like-minded educators. But there we were, talking about it like an idea that matters. They asked me questions to get past the veneer of a catchy buzzword, and helped me dig into the heart of the concept, why it matters so much to me, and why it should matter to the larger community. I watched their faces catching the vision, which was then reflected back to me in a more refined and larger scale vision. Such a rush! I left feeling more enthusiastic than ever about techquity, and confident I could express it to a crowd.
Well, the confidence came and went as the week progressed. But when I’d start spinning out, suffering big time from “imposter syndrome,” sure I didn’t deserve to be on that stage, I’d come back to what Afrita said about an others-focus. Maybe I didn’t deserve to be on stage, but so what? It’s not about me. It’s about my idea, and its capacity to impact others. Believing in myself is hard, but I believe in techquity. I believe in the kids that can benefit from techquity. That deserved a stage. I just had to focus on doing justice to the idea.
Allen was my go-to during the week who kept checking on me, answering my questions, rehearsing with me via video chat, and generally holding my hand through the whirlwind. He has that rare superpower I always admire of making people feel like they’re super-important to him. I knew that he had to be under enormous pressure of being one of the heads of this HUGE event, but any time I talked with him, it felt like I was his top priority. (I’m sure I wasn’t, but it felt like it!) He seems to remember everyone he’s ever met, and everyone they’ve ever met. And not in the fakey politician way, but in the sincere, I-want-to-connect-with-everyone-and-help-them-connect-with-each-other way.
Thursday night was the fancy TEDx dinner, which seemed to include everyone who’s ever been involved with a TEDxPortland event. I was surrounded by so much greatness, and I loved just soaking it all in. Met all kinds of cool, interesting people. (Somebody said in a speech that “If you’re in this room right now, you’re interesting!” And I wished my insecure 13-year old self could know that’s coming.:)) Everyone I met looked horrified when they learned that I had just found out I was speaking less than a week before. They all knew how much goes into preparing one of these talks! Then they always tried to quickly replace the horrified expression with a supportive one, “You’re going to do great!” Yeah, ok, thanks guys…. None of them, of course, actually knew if I’d be any good. They didn’t know me. And they didn’t know if a speaker could be chosen from a booth (sorta) and show up ready to go in a week, because it had literally never been done before!
Most importantly, butterscotch pudding happened. I know, who really cares about butterscotch pudding, right? But I’m telling you. Run, don’t walk, to the Irving Street Kitchen, and get the butterscotch pudding. It will change your life. They offer it to-go in mason jars, so it’s not even necessary to sit down for a meal. (Although if you’re looking for an amazing meal too, stay!)
Continued in Part 2….