8 People You Meet at Every Tournament

Christian Homeschool Speech and Debate Kids are...interesting people. We spend our time researching obscure policies, talking to walls, and celebrating making people cry. Within our group, there are certain people you will surely encounter. After spending my middle school and high school years at countless tournaments, I've noticed that there are eight people you meet at every tournament.

1. The Prepared

These competitors come to the tournament with not one, not two, but three debate boxes. How they fit those in the back of their van the world may never know. Going into rounds, they pull out three six inch binders. And that's just for affirmative rounds. They wrote their speeches in August and memorized them the first week in September. Chances are, if you need a brief for your round, they will be able to provide.

2. The Unprepared

The exact opposite of the Prepared, the Unprepared wrote their speech the week before the tournament and memorized it yesterday. They are the LDers who write entire neg cases during the AC, the interpers who cut lines on the way to script submission, the expos-ers who tape things to their board outside of their rounds. Occasionally Always stressed.

3. The Napper

They stayed up late the night before the tournament because they forgot about script submission. Now, in the ten minutes between rounds. this competitor is asleep on the couch in the lobby. Don't worry; they will wake upon the postings stampede and attend their round on time*.

*Punctuality is not guaranteed with the purchase of a "the Napper."

4. The Casual

This person is not competing at the tournament. Most likely, they showed up a couple of hours after everyone else, wearing jeans and a t-shirt, making all the formally dressed teenagers super jealous. This is not to be confused with someone who didn't break and is now wearing the sweats of depression. This is a person who did not ever participate in the tournament, except to make everyone aware of how uncomfortable dress shoes are. Often overlaps with the Alumni, but not always.

5. The Breaker

Also known as the Medalist or the Winner, the Breaker is that one person who breaks in every event they compete in. Most people don't compete in as many events in prelims as this student competes in in finals. In many cases, this person is also the Humble, who never acts like breaking in literally everything (including that event you had no idea they were doing) is a big deal and is always looking shocked during the awards ceremony.

6. The Snacker

Goldfish, Pringles, those organic maple leaf things from Trader Joe's, this kid brought everything. If you're lucky, this person will share their treasures with you. This person knows how to make friends. The key to the heart of debaters is snack food. In that time between meals, hunger strikes. The snack kid strikes back.

7. The Alumni

They show up, Starbucks and ballot in hand. Since their last NITOC, they have grown an attempt at a beard. They wear converse and flannel and joggers. Everyone is overjoyed to see them. The ballots they return have handwriting just legible enough to read the many, many comments they've written. They stroll around the student area with plates loaded with judges' food. Not because they're hungry, but just to show off the fact that they can now eat judges' food*.

*Also, they're hungry. College students are always hungry for free food.

8. The Humble

Typically a fifth or sixth year competitor (though there are exceptions), the Humble is the person everyone says they want to be when giving the devotional at club, but few people actually are. They don't care what club someone is from, how well they do in competition, how old they are, how fashionable others' suits are--they just care about you. They are friends with anyone and everyone, and are always helping break down the tournament once everything's said and done. They may do well in competition, they may not. But everyone knows their name, not because it's been announced 12 times during the awards ceremony, but because this person made an effort to be loving and friendly with as many people as possible.

Vote affirmative, so I can be the Breaker.

NITOC this year

Rain drips from the clouds, signaling the end of the ballot party. My last ballot party.

After countless debate rounds, speech rounds, postings stampede rounds, my forensics career is over. I'm loath to leave my friends and drive back to the hotel. I'm quiet on the way. I work to keep my mind from going over every single memory from the last five years.

Five years. Nearly 40 tournaments. Three clubs. And so many people.

Nothing made me cry more but nothing made me laugh more. From junior competitors to judges. From California to Carolina. From 13 to 17. From crying at the thought of speaking in front of people, to being passionate about sharing my words with others. Nothing has grown me more than speech and debate.

No, competition was never my strength (except impromptu but that's an old story). My strengths were more of the "horribly awkward and embarrassing" variety. Pushing boys over on accident, wearing slippers into rounds, thinking I was subtle when I had a crush (hahaha no), going into the wrong competition room, and spitting gum into my hair about twelve seconds before my debate round started. Not to mention the gum incident.

But those moments turned me into a storyteller. What can you do with the awkward but turn it into funny?

A week after the March tournament, my club has its end of the year party. The drive is two hours long and I have nothing to do but think. I don't think too much because I don't want I ruin my eyeliner. I do think about all the times people asked me why I switched clubs.

"Was it closer?" they asked.

I almost laughed. "It's about an hour and a half away."

"??????" they responded.

I was never sure what to say but the vague, true answer. It just felt right. Sometimes, you stop fitting into a place and need to move. No loss of love led to my decision.

At the party, I wear my favorite dress and red heels. My knees shake and I can barely walk. But it's not just because of the three inch stilts. It's because I'm about to say goodbye.

I get invitations to graduations I know I can't attend. I hear "see you laters" I know I can't fulfill. I give hugs that aren't enough to say how I feel. How do I feel? The gratitude is too much to say without crying. How can I say thank you to the club that welcomed me in, laughed at my jokes, named my camera, became my long-distance friends?

Almost two months after that, NITOC begins. I scroll through Facebook and Instagram and see dozens of pictures announcing arrivals in Jackson, Tennessee. And I'm not there.

Three years ago, I didn't go to Nationals and my heart was shattered because of it. The week was an awful mess of looking at pictures and wishing I were there more than anything.

This year, I chose not to go. Despite the melancholy, I knew my time in speech and debate was over. I don't regret that decision. I knew my place was ending and I wasn't going to kick and fight over it. I only wonder. I wonder if I made the difference I was so hopeful to make. Did I impact people? Did awkward first conversations make people feel loved? Did the words I spoke encourage? Did I leave a legacy?

I always said I didn't want to be known by my competitive success (and that sure won't happen), but by my love. So here's one last love letter to Stoa--and the people within.

Thank you.

I would not be the person I am today without you. You, who watched my speeches, debated by my side, made me laugh so hard I spit water onto the floor, who took out the trash with me every night after club, who taught me how powerful my words could be, who danced the night away with me, who didn't freak out when I messed up our duo, who reminded me who I am, who ripped up that one awful ballot, who was the friend I needed, who gave me the grace I didn't deserve. You.

With you, I experienced overcoming fear and lies. I experienced first love and first heartbreak. I experienced hurt and forgiveness. I experienced laughter in one of the worst times in my life.

Even though my time with you is mostly over (I still be around to coach and give snarky comments), I'll never forget these years, and I promise I'll look back on the time I spent with you and smile.

And though there are many things I didn't get to tell you, these things I will: Thank you. I love you. And please, vote affirmative.