The opening scene of The King’s Speech was, in a word, terrifying. The moment King George VI—wonderfully played by Colin Firth—stepped up to the microphone at Wembley Stadium, a rush of nervousness came over me. It took me back to my school days, standing at my desk, having to read aloud to the class. I whispered to my wife, Jill, “A stutterer(口吃者) wrote this screenplay(剧本). I grew up with a stutter, really afraid of trying to get through simple sentences—knowing that I would then, or later, be laughed at. I still remember the reading when I was in 7th grade at St. Helena’s: “Sir Walter Raleigh was a gentlemen…” I remember reciting, “Sir Walter Raleigh was a gentlemen.” The school teacher said, “Master B-B-B-Biden! What’s that word?” She wanted me to say gentlemen. But by then, I had learned to put my sentences into bite-size pieces and I was reading it: “gentle”｜breath｜“man”. Ninety-nine percent of the time, the teachers were great. I never had professional treatment but a couple of teachers taught me to put a regular rise and fall in my tone of speaking, and that’s why I spent so much time reading poetry. But even in my small, boys’ prep school, I got nailed in my class with the nickname Joe Stutterer. You get so desperate, you’re so embarrassed. I actually went and stood by the side of my house once, with a small round stone in my mouth, and tried to talk. Jill always thought I was kidding until she saw the movie and saw King George did the same thing. King George relied on the support his wife and the help of Lionel Longue, who, in describing working with other stutterers, said, “My job was to give them confidence in their voices and let them know that a friend was listening.” I was lucky enough to have more than a couple of Lionels in my life. Nobody in my family ever—ever—made fun of me or tried to finish my sentences. My mother would say, “Joey, you cannot let stuttering define you.” And because of her and others, I made sure it didn’t. Through hard work and determination, I beat my stutter in high school. I even spoke briefly at my graduation ceremony in 1961—the most difficult speech of my life. My fight against shyness and embarrassment at my early age has developed my ability to understand others’ feelings as Vice President of the country in public life. I still mark up all of my speeches the say way Firth’s character does in the movie, pencil-marking every line to remind myself to stop, to breathe, to pause—to beat back my stuttering as best as I can. I don’t stutter anymore, and most people who know me only late in my life are shocked that I ever did. By capturing exactly how a stutter feels, The King’s Speech has shown millions of people how much courage it takes for a stutterer to stand up and speak. Equally important, it has shown millions who suffer from the pain that it can be overcome, we are not alone, and with the support of those around us, our deepest fears can be conquered. 小题1:The writer whispered to his wife, “A stutterer wrote this screenplay”, because __________.
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