I agree that code with too small functions can be hard to understand, especially if the naming of functions is not top notch. And naming things is one of the hardest parts of programming. Ability to give good names requires thorough understanding of concepts involved, which often isn't true the first time (or even second time) you write the code.

There's also interesting discussion about "optimal" function length in Steve McConnell's Code Complete. If I recall correctly, there was no evidence that functions of even 100 LoCs for complex algorithms were significantly more error prone than similar code with shorter functions, and that very short functions actually lead to more bugs than code with functions with reasonable length. I think it is because of naming: it's hard to name hundreds of small things well.

Some kids grow up on football. I grew up on public speaking (as behavioral therapy for a speech impediment, actually). If you want to get radically better in a hurry:

1) If you ever find yourself buffering on output, rather than making hesitation noises, just pause. People will read that as considered deliberation and intelligence. It's outrageously more effective than the equivalent amount of emm, aww, like, etc. Practice saying nothing. Nothing is often the best possible thing to say. (A great time to say nothing: during applause or laughter.)

2) People remember voice a heck of a lot more than they remember content. Not vocal voice, but your authorial voice, the sort of thing English teachers teach you to detect in written documents. After you have found a voice which works for you and your typical audiences, you can exploit it to the hilt.

I have basically one way to start speeches: with a self-deprecating joke. It almost always gets a laugh out of the crowd, and I can't be nervous when people are laughing with me, so that helps break the ice and warm us into the main topic.

3) Posture hacks: if you're addressing any group of people larger than a dinner table, pick three people in the left, middle, and right of the crowd. Those three people are your new best friends, who have come to hear you talk but for some strange reason are surrounded by great masses of mammals who are uninvolved in the speech. Funny that. Rotate eye contact over your three best friends as you talk, at whatever a natural pace would be for you. (If you don't know what a natural pace is, two sentences or so works for me to a first approximation.)

Everyone in the audience -- both your friends and the uninvolved mammals -- will perceive that you are looking directly at them for enough of the speech to feel flattered but not quite enough to feel creepy.

4) Podiums were invented by some sadist who hates introverts. Don't give him the satisfaction. Speak from a vantage point where the crowd can see your entire body.

5) Hands: pockets, no, pens, no, fidgeting, no. Gestures, yes. If you don't have enough gross motor control to talk and gesture at the same time (no joke, this was once a problem for me) then having them in a neutral position in front of your body works well.

6) Many people have different thoughts on the level of preparation or memorization which is required. In general, having strong control of the narrative structure of your speech without being wedded to the exact ordering of sentences is a good balance for most people. (The fact that you're coming to the conclusion shouldn't surprise you.)

7) If you remember nothing else on microtactical phrasing when you're up there, remember that most people do not naturally include enough transition words when speaking informally, which tends to make speeches loose narrative cohesion. Throw in a few more than you would ordinarily think to do. ("Another example of this...", "This is why...", "Furthermore...", etc etc.)

I no longer believe in rewrites.

I used to believe that every company gets one rewrite, but only because I have seen that most places have the patience and the stamina for a little bit less than a single rewrite, but I was on the fence about whether they were a good idea anyway.

Trouble is, I could never put my finger on why, other than that it never seemed to fix the problem. It was a bit like moving to a new city to start over and finding out you brought all your problems with you.

In the last couple of years I have begin to figure out what I know in a way I can articulate. The people who have the skills and discipline to take advantage of a rewrite don't need a rewrite. It's a short distance from that skill set to being able to break the problem down and fix it piece by piece. They just need permission to fix key bits, one bite at a time, and they've probably already insisted on the space to do it, although they may be clever enough never to have said it out loud. They just do it.

Then you have the people who don't have the skills and discipline to continuously improve their code. What the rewrite buys them is a year of nobody yelling at them about how crappy the code is. They have all the goodwill and the hopes of the organization riding on their magical rewrite. They've reset the Animosity Clock and get a do-over. However, as the time starts to run down, they will make all of the same mistakes because they couldn't ever decompose big problems in the first place, and they lack the patience to stick with their course and not chicken out. They go back to creating messes as they go, if they ever actually stopped to begin with. Some of them wouldn't recognize the mess until after its done anyway.

In short, people who ask for a rewrite don't deserve a rewrite, and would squander it if they did. It's a stall tactic and an expensive dream. The ones who can handle a rewrite already are. They never stopped rewriting.

Now, I've left out all of the problems that can come from the business side, and in many cases the blame lies squarely with them (and the pattern isn't all that different). In that case it might take the rewrite for everyone to see how inflexible, unreasonable and demanding the business side is, and so Garbage In, Garbage Out rules the day. But the people with the self respect to not put up with it have moved on, or gotten jaded and bitter in the process.