Five common student presentation errors

As the term comes to a frantic end, with stacks of marking and piles of paper, I get to enjoy my favourite chunk of classtime: the student presentations. I’ve blogged about this before (HERE and HERE), but I thought that today I would share some of the most common errors I see in student presentations. Who knows – you just might recognise your own presentation-self in here.

 

1. Reading off the screen while presenting

We require our students to present with slides (most use PowerPoint; some use Prezi). I always stress that the slides should be a backdrop to their own presentation, that if there was an ESKOM blackout and they lost all use of the computer or the data projector, they should be able to continue with their presentation with no problem. However, students often find comfort reading the notes on the screen, which decreases the connection they’re able to make and sustain with the audience.

2. Strange involuntary body movements

I will never tire of watching the strange things that otherwise normal students do when they stand up to present. Legs shake… one hand flies around… weight shifts from foot to foot… a finger points at the audience… a groin gets periodically scratched (no jokes!). We’ve started filming the students while they present and then playing the video back to them so they can see the strange things they do. They’re almost always surprised at what they see.

3. Robot voice

There’s something about giving a formal presentation that makes many a lively, engaging, funny student turn into a robot. The whole presentation gets delivered in a strange sing-song tone to the voice a’la the talking clock you get when you’re lonely and you phone 1026. I know what this is: the student has learnt the presentation off-by-heart and is reciting it to the audience. The problem is this eliminates any natural spontaneity, which an audience finds appealing and engaging. 

4. Being very, VERY serious

Yes, sometimes students present on things like illnesses, pollution or poverty, and a serious tone is justified. However, often they forget that audiences like to connect with real people, and real people exhibit a range of emotions during conversations. Often students forget to smile when they introduce themselves, or get excited when trying to get audiences to buy into their idea. This almost always affects the impact of their presentation, which can feel more didactic then is appropriate.

5. Making themselves small

I’ve been super-aware of this one since watching Amy Cuddy’s AMAZING Ted Talk (click HERE if you haven’t seen it yet) about how one’s body language shapes who you are. Some students, when they stand up to present, make themselves so tiny. Their shoulder close in, they wring their aims together, they slouch inwards. This doesn’t just create the impression of an unconfident presenters but, as Cuddy shows, feeds into feelings of powerlessness for the students themselves.

 

I’m passionate about helping students learn to present effectively and powerfully. I see these five errors a lot in student presentations, but I firmly believe that, in most cases, good presenters are bred not born. Seeing the students improve during our courses is proof of this.

Do you see your presenting styles in this list? Can you spot any I may have left out?

 

Students Surviving Presentations (literally)

When I’m teaching presentation skills, I tell my students that there’s some statistic out there that says that more people fear public speaking then being buried alive.

I also tell them that I think I’ve completely made that up, but that it does seem to capture a sense of the fear that surrounds speaking to an audience. It’s very scary exposing yourself to an audience, and it must be even more challenging if English is your second or third language.

There are always a couple of students who are confident and take it all in their stride. But on the whole, my classroom before a presentation session is alive with nervous tension. Students hover about in their suits. There’s a constant low murmur of speech recitation. Key cards shuffle softly and automatically between clammy fingers.

Yesterday, one student waited till the very end to present. Eventually she had no choice but to step up in front of the class. As I set up her PowerPoint presentation, she whispered in my ear, “I feel like I want to die.” I reassured her this was unlikely and she proceeded to present very effectively, without keeling over.

I’d be so interested to know what it’s like for a student to face something they’re so scared of and they really don’t want to do. What state do they move into after they’ve faced one of their worst fears? Is it simply relief? Do they feel proud of themselves? Do they realise that if they can face this fear then they can take anything on? If so, we could be teaching them more then simply how to present effectively, and this makes me a very happy teacher.

Presentation time: my favourite time of term

This semester, my head’s been stuffed with issues of diversity, access, inequality, voice, power and discourse on campus, which has made my whole university experience way more interesting. Now, each class that I teach isn’t just a space for a simple lecture. It’s a hotbed of subtle and overt action and reaction that I may or may not be interpreting correctly, and that I may or may not be equipped to act on.

Take, for example, the professional presentations that my students are currently working on. The brief is  to prepare a 5-10 minute persuasive presentation on an industry-related topic of their choice. They have to dress professionally, and include visual aids. They’re assessed according to their delivery as well as their ability to make their technical content understandable.

Presentation-time has always been my favourite part of the course. I tell my students that this is because finally THEY’RE the ones in front of the class getting judged instead of me! But actually, I love presentations because it’s a chance to get to know the students a little better. There’s something wonderful about actually hearing their voices, about seeing their vulnerabilities and helping them grow in confidence.

But, I’ve realised that even though we’re trying to teach the skill of giving a professional presentation, this task is by no means neutral. Firstly, the students need to speak in English. For the second and third-language speakers this is hugely challenging, and the demand that the presentation be in English portrays our ideology of the nature of industry today and the identities our students will need to adopt in the workplace.

Secondly, we provide our students with a clear presentation structure. This structure works, and we encourage our students to simply slot in their relevant content. However, is it possible that this is taking autonomy away from the students? Because they’re working with a pre-determined structure that they haven’t had to flesh out, perhaps they’re being taught a short-cut to success that might actually hinder them in the future when they’re facing real-life demands.

Thirdly, when I’m watching the presentations, I sit at the back on the class and scribble notes on each student. Being in this role reminds me of when I was a kid in drama competitions. The adjudicator was always an ancient woman with a bun, and she’d sit at the back of the room, unsmiling, judging, making notes. I was terrified of that woman. And now, I fear, I’ve become her. Being in that position creates a strong power dynamic between myself and the students. How does this impact on their experiences of the task?

Finally, I always push my students to stand confidently, shoulders back, both feet planted on the ground. I want them to speak loudly enough and at the right pace, and to maintain eye contact. It worries me that I don’t take their cultural and personal backgrounds into consideration as I push this western conception of an effective professional speaker. What about cultures where it’s considered rude to make eye contact with certain people? What about someone whose life history has never allowed them a space to voice their opinions before?

You know in Wizard of Oz, when the movie suddenly becomes colour? That’s how I feel now that I’m more conscious of what’s going on beneath the surface level of my lecture space. It’s sometimes challenging to know how to manage this; lets just say, as a lecturer, I’m not in Kansas anymore…