Happy New Year, Reader!

I thought I would kick off 2026 with a cult classic, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.

I still remember the proud-mom moment I had when my then eight-year-old stumbled across this movie completely by accident, fell in love with it, and then got mad at me for not showing it to her sooner. Which is totally fair.

Since Ferris Bueller’s Day Off turns 40 this year (which feels both impossible and incredibly rude), let’s break it down.

I want to start with a hard truth: this movie is not actually about Ferris. Even though he’s technically the main character, he’s very much not the protagonist.

Cameron is.

Before I explain why, take a moment to watch this clip—the scene where Cameron emotionally breaks before his big turning point:

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This scene is the most transformative one in the movie, but it’s one that people tend to gloss over.

Cameron isn’t being dramatic here. He’s frozen. He’s spiraling under the weight of expectation, fear, and a lifetime of being told who he’s supposed to be. Ferris is still joking, still nudging, still trying to keep the day light—but Cameron’s nervous system has hit its limit.

The film does something really smart in this moment: it slows down long enough to let us sit with that.

We’re watching Cameron just before his catharsis. Before the moment when he finally breaks free of what’s been holding him back—symbolized (spoiler alert) by his dad’s prized Ferrari literally breaking free and crashing into the ravine below.

That’s the arc.

Cameron changes. Ferris really doesn’t.

Ferris exists as pressure. As motion. As the catalyst that forces Cameron to confront what he’s been avoiding.

And this is where the craft gets a little tricky—especially for speakers.

As a speaker, your job is to hold the presence of Ferris. You’re the steady one. The confident one. The person who believes change is possible and keeps things moving forward. As a facilitator, you hold the knowledge and the esteem. You are why people are in the room.

But when it comes to the story you tell, it should center Cameron’s POV.

Think about a story you tell often—one that’s polished and usually gets a good response. The one that shows you as competent, prepared, and successful.

• Where did I hesitate in this story, even if I don’t usually talk about it? The pause you usually skip over. The moment you almost didn’t act.
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• What was actually at risk for me here? Not the outcome that was possible, but what you were afraid might happen if you chose wrong.
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• What did I believe in the moment before things shifted? The thought, assumption, or fear that kept you frozen just a touch longer than you’d like to admit.

Those are your Cameron moments.

Because when you bring Ferris energy to the room but let the story belong to Cameron, something powerful happens: people don’t just listen—they see themselves.

And that’s when stories actually do their job.

Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.

Wishing you a gentle and safe new year, Reader!