I'm not talking about the year before
being a senior in highschool or college or whatever. I am, of course.
talking about those really cute kids who are too young to compete in
speech and debate, but have older siblings who are winning tournaments
and want in on the trophy action. They are 100% cuter than us varsity
kids and have a much greater ability to scream at high pitches (don't
ask me how I know that. My ears are still hurting).
This past week I got to teach at our club's Junior Speech camp. (I was, of course, the best instructor.) (Okay not really. It depends on which kids you ask.) We played Sharks and Minnows, Elf-Giant-Man (think rock-paper-scissors), Attack the Instructor (actually the game was called Fruit Basket Turnovers. But an instructor was attacked.), and more. I taught cute little kids how to time speeches. I gave cute little kids pizza. I heard cute little kids scream far too loud (and let me tell you, those children are far less cute when they shout at pitches that should only be heard by dogs). I told cute little kids the story of the Stinky Cheese Man. You get the I idea- I was with cute little kids all day.
Okay, confession time: there were some ten and eleven year olds that were almost or as tall as me. Not gonna lie, I thought I would be with people I would feel tall around. I was mistaken. I did get to stand in the back row of the group picture. I don't get to do that very often. Most times I'm directly behind the people on their knees. Thanks, juniors, for being slightly shorter than me.
One of the reasons I love juniors is because I used to be one. That, of course, is a whole other story. If you stalk the archives you can find that story, told in like, four different posts. Judging them is both really fun and really hard. I know from very personal experience the way 5th and Belows on a ballot feel when you're nine. But teaching them is the best. You should try it some time.
Vote affirmative. Otherwise, you'll probably break the nine-year-olds' hearts. And mine.
This past week I got to teach at our club's Junior Speech camp. (I was, of course, the best instructor.) (Okay not really. It depends on which kids you ask.) We played Sharks and Minnows, Elf-Giant-Man (think rock-paper-scissors), Attack the Instructor (actually the game was called Fruit Basket Turnovers. But an instructor was attacked.), and more. I taught cute little kids how to time speeches. I gave cute little kids pizza. I heard cute little kids scream far too loud (and let me tell you, those children are far less cute when they shout at pitches that should only be heard by dogs). I told cute little kids the story of the Stinky Cheese Man. You get the I idea- I was with cute little kids all day.
Okay, confession time: there were some ten and eleven year olds that were almost or as tall as me. Not gonna lie, I thought I would be with people I would feel tall around. I was mistaken. I did get to stand in the back row of the group picture. I don't get to do that very often. Most times I'm directly behind the people on their knees. Thanks, juniors, for being slightly shorter than me.
One of the reasons I love juniors is because I used to be one. That, of course, is a whole other story. If you stalk the archives you can find that story, told in like, four different posts. Judging them is both really fun and really hard. I know from very personal experience the way 5th and Belows on a ballot feel when you're nine. But teaching them is the best. You should try it some time.
Vote affirmative. Otherwise, you'll probably break the nine-year-olds' hearts. And mine.
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