The Little Champion Speaks and Everyone Listens

Dreams of self-fulfillment, and the determination to realize them, are not dead in our children.

I was reassured of this the other morning as one of five judges of a competition among 20 fourth-grade pupils who gave brief speeches on the subject, “Hold Onto Your Dreams.”

The competition took place in a large meeting room of the Radisson Hotel in City of Commerce. It was full of parents and teachers. Most of the children were 9 years old. Each had won a competition in his or her own school. A box had been placed on the podium for the children to stand on, so that their heads and shoulders would show above the lectern. Some almost didn’t make it.

Half the 20 pupils competing were from 10 schools in the Santa Ana Unified School District, half from the “Los Angeles 10”--the 10 schools in the Los Angeles City School District with the lowest test scores. We were to select three winners.

The judging system was complex. We had to grade each pupil 1-5 in various categories (diction, control of body, gestures), then add the totals. My fellow judges were actress Julie Carmen; Yolanda Miro, hostess of “Tu Musica”; Dr. Samuel Mark, director, Office of Civic and Community Relations, USC; and actor Carlos Palomino, former world welterweight boxing champion.

I had expected a painful morning. I was astonished at the poise, language and persuasive skill of every child. My ear was tuned for grammatical errors; I didn’t catch one. Most U.S. senators couldn’t have done as well.

Almost without exception the children never faltered in their presentations. Most knew them by heart. One or two used prompt cards. Most kept unwavering eye contact with the audience. Their voices betrayed no nervousness. Hardly any fell into singsong.

Obviously they had been well-rehearsed by devoted teachers. Even their gestures appeared on cue. Rarely did one grope for words. I had no doubt that their teachers had helped them with their grammar, but that’s what teachers are for. In the audience, I suspected, those teachers held their breath. Finally, we judges turned in our papers for tabulating. In the interim, radio star Jay Thomas passed out certificates to the teachers. Ronald McDonald, the clown, entertained. Julie Carmen’s 3-year-old son wandered onto the stage. McDonald asked if he was in the Cub Scouts. Yes, the boy said. “How long have you been in the Cub Scouts?”

The lad thought it over. “Uh . . . uh . . . a long time,” he said.

After lunch the winners were announced. Omar Paez of Martin Luther King Jr. won first prize. Amanda Fults of Wilson won second; three girls, Nykia Smith of McKinley Avenue, Paula Armstead of 97th Street, and Patricia Tyler of 96th Street, tied for third. McDonald’s Operators Assn. of Southern California, the sponsor, awarded $1,000 to Omar, $500 to Amanda, and $250 each to Nykia, Paula and Patricia.

In his speech Omar said he wanted to be a “medical engineer scientist” so he could make people well; Amanda said she wanted to be “an astronaut, like Neil Armstrong and Sally Ride; I want to explore space.” Nykia said she wanted to be an actress and a teacher. Paula said she wanted to be a lawyer, then marry a doctor and have her first child. Patricia also wanted to be a lawyer and to “bring about a crime-free world.”

Afterward I obtained a copy of Omar’s speech. It read, in part: “I want to be a medical enginear because I have understude that a medical enginear scientest descovers new antedotes for diferent decises. . . .”

I was relieved. So the kids were human after all.

At the end, Minerva Perez of KTLA, emcee of the contest, gave Omar a hand up to the box on the podium and invited him to say a few words. His head barely showed above the lectern. He might have been the shortest person in the contest, but I had been impressed by his jaunty carriage and aplomb.

He looked at the audience. Suddenly he lost his poise. He said, “I don’t know what to say.”

His face contorted. Perez helped him down. Behind the lectern the tears came. But in a minute he was back on the podium, facing the audience.

What the heck, Omar, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’ll bet Carlos Palomino, the former champ, has cried.

So have I.