NITOC - The Third Year Chronicles #27

I stand in the entry to the amphitheater and gaze around the massive space. To many, it would be a bizarre sight. Hundreds of teenagers in suits. carrying trophies and uncomfortable looking shoes. To me, though, the view is nothing unusual. Not unusual, but the epitome of bittersweet.

I spent the week with the people in this room. I don't know most of them. Some I met this week. Some I met years ago. Many had walked across the huge stage the front of the room. Many had sat in their seats and cheered for their friends. Medals drape from necks. Ballots are clutched in arms holding drawstring backpacks and snacks bought at the last minute.

My brown high-heel shoes hang from my fingertips. I'm not looking for one specific person. I'm looking at everyone, trying to be with all of them at once. The hours I'd sat through the awards ceremony, the days I spent walking around BJU's campus, and the week I spent with these people is taking its toll. The energy I had throughout the day and week is failing.

Here it is. Here we are. The end.

The end of the awards ceremony. The end of the day. The end of NITOC. The end of the 2014-2015 speech and debate year. No more electronic surveillance law or federal jurisprudence or communities' moral standards in TP and LD rounds. Broadcasting has been rotated out and replaced with monologue. Trade policies with Asian countries, liberal arts, developing countries, OI's continuance. Another year coming.

It all makes me want to cry. A long week has gone by too fast. There are so many people here I won't see for sixth months or more. Some I won't see ever again. Some have impacted me in ways not even I can see. I can only hope that I've impacted them in some way. There are so many people I need to say goodbye to, but no matter how much time I spend in this room, I cannot say enough goodbyes, enough "I love you"s, enough "thank you"s.

I didn't break in my original speech, but I did break in impromptu (to the great excitement of my club). I didn't win any events. I didn't get last place in any events. There's no trophy for me to lug back to my car. That's okay.

I watch friends and strangers mill around the room, saying their own goodbyes and congratulations. I've said a few already myself. I can almost taste the bittersweetness in the air.

"I'll see you next year!"

"I cannot believe the president skipped my name."

"Any ideas for next year?"

"I'm moving in ten days."

"I'm so proud of you!"

"...College in California."

"I love you."

Not much time passes as I stand in the back of the room. I'm so unprepared to say goodbye to my friends, so I'll be cliche and say 'see you later.' An open statement. 'Later' could mean at the ballot party, 'later' could mean next week, 'later' could mean next year. An open promise, though. Even I don't see some of these people ever again, I won't forget this week, or this year of speech and debate.

I leave my spot in the doorway. I make my way through the crowds and have to hug most of my friends at least three times before I'm somewhat satisfied with the beginning of our separation.

NITOC is over. There were a lot of hard spots. Thursday night breaks. Occasionally confusing behavior from my friends. Short nights. Long walks. Heavy boxes. Small hotel room. Three flights of stairs. Leaving my meal tickets at the hotel. Leaving my goldfish at the hotel. Feeling like passing out. Folding two hundred t-shirts. Friends breaking, friends not breaking.

Yes, there were hard spots. But the good spots, the perfect moments, the rejoicing, the small conversations, the frisbee games, the outrounds, the cute suits and kind hearts, getting lost with friends, seeing chipmunks, cheering for my friends and club mates, the sunglasses, the first round, the last round. Every real smile. Every kind word. These things overshadow the rough patches.

When I finally get in the car to go back to the hotel for the ballot party, my mind rolls over the past nine days. The lessons I've learned or relearned. Moments I'll hold onto for years.

I take a deep breath and stare out the window. I won't likely drive down this road again, so I watch the trees blur by in the darkness. I memorize the way the moon looks in South Carolina. I don't cry, but I could. Not necessarily from sadness, or happiness either. But from both.

I thank God for my friends and my family, because without them I wouldn't be anything like the person I am, and I kind of like who I am. I like where I am, right now. This tournament was long and hard and wonderful. Maybe not the best tournament ever, but it's been pretty fantastic. Even if I won't remember every detail, I'll remember what's important. I'll remember the love and pride I feel for my friends, however well they did in competition this year. I'll remember the relationships. I'll remember the people.

Vote affirmative. I'll see you next year.

(This post is part of a series called The Third Year Chronicles. Click here for TTYC #26)

Five Stages of Resolutional Acceptance - The Third Year Chronicles #26

Three resolutions go in. One resolution is complained about for a month then gradually accepted into our lives as debaters. Every year, it's the same story.

1. Denial

 2. Anger

3. Bargaining

4. Depression

5. Acceptance

BONUS: Exhaustion

Vote affirmative. You'll come to accept it.


(This post is part of a series called The Third Year Chronicles. Click here for TTYC #25)

The Last Tournament of the Year - The Third Year Chronicles #25

I've been to 10 tournaments this year. Now, I know you're probably thinking, 'dang, Hadley, that's massive amount of tournaments.' And you're right. Ten tournaments is a lot. There's probably some math I could do to see how many hours I spent at tournaments this year, but I really don't want to. Sorry.

Last weekend, I went to my last tournament of the year. (Minus NITOC, which I am going to.) The last tournament of the year is the one where you realize a few things, such as, but not limited to, the following:

• This could be the last round in which you deliver the speech you've been working on all year.
• You won't be able to hang out with your senior friends at tournaments anymore (unless they're awesome and come back to judge.)
• You'll never deliver that debate case again.
• Speech and debate camp is too far away.
• You aren't going to a tournament for at least six months.
• If you're a senior, you aren't going to compete at a tournament again. (Now that's just depressing.)
• This is your last chance for a green check mark.
• Waiting is hard.

Well, now I'm depressed.

Tournaments are exhausting. Especially when you go to ten in six months. But they're also the greatest. I won't go too far into why, because I've written a lot about this subject.

The last tournament of the year is also a reminder. It reminded me why I'm doing this to begin with: because I love people. It's easy to forget this when you're in the middle of a heated debate round, or when every ballot reads fifth and below, or when you lose around because the other team was more charming. But if we continue to go back to why we love speech and debate, these things fade away. I promise.

Vote affirmative. And try not to freak out because NITOC is in 40 days.

(This post is part of a series called The Third Year Chronicles. Click here for TTYC #24)

Tournament Nightmares - The Third Year Chronicles #24

I went two minutes overtime in Motivational. I left my heels in the student area. My throat was stuffy after having too much pizza and milk for lunch. I was 25minutes late to extemp prep. When I drew, I found questions on topics I knew nothing about: the newest pigeon-messenger technology, the stability of Tajikistan's economy, the leader of Australia's "Animal Justice" political party. I couldn't find anything on any of these topics, and by the time I deciphered what they might actually mean, my prep time expired. When I checked postings outside my room, I found that the top extempers in the nation were in the same room as me. And, oh, the president of Stoa was judging my speech.

As you may have guessed, this was a dream, or rather, a nightmare. The kind that you wake up from in a cold sweat, breathing like you've just run a marathon, and check the date and time to make sure what just happened didn't actually happen. The kind that makes you have to remind yourself that the tournament is still a week away.

When I was a child, I dreamed about things like my dogs getting into car accidents while driving my grandmother's car (what the heck, small child me?). Those dreams, clearly, were frightening. But something about leaving my suits at home, wearing two different shoes into a debate round, and showing up ten minutes late to parli prep just terrifies me. Maybe because that is not totally impossible, unlike my dogs hijacking my grandmother's car.

In a weird, round-a-bout, annoying way, tournament nightmares remind me to show up to extemp on time and to actually charge my laptop before going into extemp. Thanks, tournament nightmares, for doing something useful. I guess.

Vote affirmative, or have nightmares about forgetting to.

(This post is part of a series called The Third Year Chronicles. Click here for TTYC #23)

People Who Win - The Third Year Chronicles #23

Every tournament, someone walks away with a first place trophy.

Usually around eighteen someones, actually. Some of these people win all the time. They have to clear space on their bookshelf or wherever they put their trophies every time they come home from tournaments. Medals dangle from their first place trophies and tiny judge-hammers (some call them gavels) lean against their books.

In my 2.5 years of speech and debate (and the five years before that), I've noticed that there are two types of winners.

These are the people who are used to winning (not just people I tease about being used to winning). They expect it. They gain popularity because people want to be seen around the people who win. Then they mistake popularity for friendship. They think that, no matter how they act, as long as the keep winning (which, of course, the will) they'll gain friends. This is where they go wrong the most. These 'friendships' are shallow and fade away once dust settles on those trophies. Winning gets you recognition. Winning pulls you up Speechranks. Winning does not win you friends.

But there's another kind of winner.

I can think of a few of my friends who win. Their names are fairly well known. People come up to them and ask them about the tournament they won. They're recognized at out of state tournaments. People come up to them and ask to touch their hair. But, regardless of all this, these friends of mine are extremely humble (don't let it go to your heads).

My close friends who have placed high or won tournaments haven't changed because of it. They don't act any differently than before. They don't treat the people who don't win any differently. They have a lot of friends, yes, but not because they win. They have friends because they are friends. They treat people with kindness and humility and love, regardless of the amount of green check marks or medals others have.

They have friends, not just popularity. They have meaningful conversations, not just trophies.

Over the last two weeks of tournamenting, I've learned that while winning is fun, it doesn't last. Friendships do.

Vote affirmative, and be the second type of winner.

(This post is part of a series called The Third Year Chronicles. Click here for TTYC #22)

No Regrets - The Third Year Chronicles #22

I had barely unpacked my suitcase before having to pack my suitcase.

Before now, I've never had two consecutive tournaments. Last week, I was in Missouri for (duh) a tournament. This one was pretty different from other tournaments I've been to. I had never been to a tournament in MO before. There was a lot of snow and ice (snow would've been great, if I hadn't been wearing pencil skirts and heels). Parli and extemp, two of the three events I did, were both on Wednesday, so I only had motivational the rest of the time. Plus, a lot of my friends weren't there.

At the tournament this weekend (GLYW), most of my friends will be there, I have something both speech patterns as well as parli. It'll be the fourth time I've been to this tournament, and it's always been one of my favorites.

But the craziest part about this whole thing is that these tournaments are only a few days apart from each other. I almost didn't go to GLYW this year because of a conflict with another event this weekend. I'm really looking forward to it. Also, I'm nervous because I need another check in parli and in motivational plus I'm doing a speech I literally memorized today.

But I'm not regretting the decision to do both tournaments. I had a blast in Missouri. I'll probably have a blast in Tyler. They're different, yes. But that's not bad. Maybe I'll do a tournament recap. It's been a while since I've done that.

Vote affirmative. I have to go pack. Again.

(This post is part of a series called The Third Year Chronicles. Click here for TTYC #21)

The Side Affects of Tournamenting - The Third Year Chronicles #21

We're halfway through February, and I've already been to five tournaments. At this time my first year, I had been to two tournaments. In these weeks since the last tournament, I've noticed that these days are different from days in the summer, or during Christmas break, or in the month preceding NITOC. Going to tournaments has its own risks and side affects.*

The first and most apparent of these is the general lethargy (tiredness). There's research to do and speeches to write and speeches to memorize and other things to procrastinate. The exhaustion comes primarily from the emotional output that occurs during tournaments. Basically, there's a lot of nerves and excitement and sometimes disappointment, and so many emotions ranging from all of these to even more and it's honestly draining sometimes.

Another side affect is the increase in inside jokes. Say, for instance, 'you're my favorite,'  or, 'the fact stands.' And of course there are the stories to tell about tournaments. like going to 'California' or not being able to breathe during my extemp speech and still getting ranked 2nd in the room.

There's also the new set of tournament results to stalk on Speechranks, And the blog inspiration that may or may not come (not really coming this month), but that may just be me and my other blogging friends.

There's also the friendships built and strengthened, the experience gained, and all the beautiful, shiny trophies the knowledge acquired. But mostly friends.

Vote affirmative, because you know it's worth the risk.

*Side affects mentioned in this post have not been scientifically proven or tested, nor do they have anything to do with science at all.

(This post is part of a series called The Third Year Chronicles. Click here for TTYC #20)

Tournament Hangover - The Third Year Chronicles #20

A lot of things happen at tournaments. There's rounds, of course. but aside from those. Conversations and running to rooms and giving speeches and prepping resolutions and being nervous before breaks and waking up early and going to bed late and--I could go on, but I'm writing the tournament re-cap later, and you probably already know all that besides.

So you get home from tournaments and you don't want to do anything. You don't want to think about filing extemp articles or writing your speech. I always feel like I should write a blog post, but I'm too exhausted to do much of anything. And there's unpacking and laundry and school and no wonder debaters almost always do school through the summer.

And then a few days later, we're back in the swing of things. Filing and formatting and mathing and writing. And then a couple of weeks later you freak out because oh my gosh there's a tournament this weekend and I still have laundry to do. And you know what happens next.

Vote affirmative. I'm too tired to figure out why you should. You're smart. Just read the flow. If your handwriting is legible...

(This post is part of a series called The Third Year Chronicles. Click here for TTYC #19)

The Crazy Stuff - The Third Year Chronicles #19

I can't believe my eyes.

I've heard of this happening to others, but the stories of past years and months and tournaments seemed distant, totally apart from my own life. Sure, some weird things had happened to me. We've all gotten the blank 5th and below ballots, or the comments about our hair our clothes. But this? This was ridiculous.

I must have said something out loud, probably 'no' or, more likely, 'NO!!', because the table has turned its full attention to me, something that rarely happens. I read a few comments off the ballot to explain my outrage. My best friend takes the ballot from me, possibly in disbelief to make sure the ballot really said that. Her wide eyes fly over the sloppy but legible handwriting on the ballot. Then, without a moment's hesitation, she rips the paper in two. My jaw drops. I think I should be upset with her, but instead I just wish I had done it myself.

That ballot lost me a check mark. I questioned for days how on earth this could have happened. It was frustrating and infuriating. I had to remind myself not to be mad at the team that got that ballot since it was not their fault.

Over the last couple of years, a lot of weird, bizarre, crazy things have happened to me and my friends. Wacky arguments, new in the two, rounds won on speaks, rounds lost on socks. It would be easy to spend out time complaining about these things. They do make for pretty good stories. But these things aren't what matter.

We shouldn't focus on the crazy stuff that drive us to a point of temporary insanity. There's a reason we hardly spend any time talking about ballots at the 'ballot' party. Sure, these things are fun to talk about. I'm not telling you to stop telling stories about the wonky things that happen in rounds or the ridiculous comments on ballots. That's fine. That's good. But don't focus on those things.

Laugh at inside jokes and your own awkwardness and your friends' stories. Don't let the crazy stuff that happens take away the amazingness of tournaments and speech and debate in general. That's not what it all comes down to.

Vote affirmative, even if that ballot was crazy.

(This post is part of a series called The Third Year Chronicles. Click here for TTYC #18)

CHSADK Memes - The Third Year Chronicles #18

I have 277 pins on my CHSADK Pinterest board. That's more than my clothing and wedding dress boards combined. Here are some of my favorite debate-related memes (courtesy of Pinterest and NCFCA Memes).

This one is great because it is both a debate joke and an Incredibles reference

Or hanging around trying to get your mom's attention so you can put your box in the car.

Every time...

What's the difference?

...yeah, my life is just debate.

Do I see another Taylor Swift parody??

The forensic clap should be adopted in all areas of life.

Mom signed me up...

Every time I see a "your argument is invalid" meme, this is what I think...

Unfortunate, but true.

Vote affirmative, because debate memes are hilarious.

(This post is part of a series called The Third Year Chronicles. Click here for TTYC #17)

Halfway - The Third Year Chronicles #17

I have been doing speech and debate for two and a half years.

In two and a half years I will graduate.

That makes this the halfway point

I suppose I should look back at everything I've learned after all this time, but I don't have to. I've learned it, haven't I? Otherwise there's no point in looking at what I've learned because then I haven't learned anything. So rather than look back at what I've learned and rehash those points, I think it's better to take these things and teach you. Maybe this counts as looking back at what I've learned, but I hope that even more, you learn from my experiences.

I learned to love speech and debate. Of my now eighty blog posts, 57 of those are speech and debate related. I named this blog after a speech event (and also a delicious candy).  My friends get on to me about how much I love forensics. I'm not saying you should love speech and debate. I admit it's not for everyone. But there's something out there that you'll be great at, something you'll love. Maybe it's forensics, maybe it's sports. Maybe it's writing or teaching. I don't know. But God made you with a passion for something. Something you'll love like I love speech and debate.

I learned to make friends. I learned to step out and start conversations. I learned how to encourage other CHSADKs and other people in general. I learned what makes a friend a friend and hopefully how to be that. Losing a friendship taught me a lot about the subject. I learned that some friendships fade and some last. I learned that you often have to fight. I learned that friendship isn't about feelings--it, just like love, is a choice. We have to choose to put the effort into other people to be their friend.

I learned what is important. Really: it's not about the trophies. We hear this so much as debaters. And even though I was on the gov side of a resolution that implied debate was about winning, that's not why we really compete in forensics. It's about learning and growing, and it's about the relationships. As one of my friends once said, "people don't join debate for the competition. They do it for the community, friendships, and future marriages."

I learned that people are my favorite. Even though it's still sometimes hard for me to make friends, I love people. All people. I do need to be alone sometimes and take a break from people, but I don't like being alone all of the time. I love making people smile and laugh and I love getting to help people, in whatever way that may be.

There's more than that, but those are a few general things. I could write a whole blog post about each of those things, and maybe I will (and I have). I don't know what the next 2 1/2 years will hold, and I don't have to. I won't try and guess or predict how well I'll do or how far I'll go. That's not for me to know right now. I suppose that's another thing I learned: not to try and figure out what happens next.

Vote affirmative, or just learn how.

(This post is part of a series called The Third Year Chronicles. Click here for TTYC #16)

Things Everyone Has Gotten on a Ballot - The Third Year Chronicles #16

Having been to 17 tournaments over the last few years, I've noticed that, along with things that happen every tournament, there are some ballots that don't come as a surprise to anyone. Except novices. But they too learn of the ballots that come back every tournament.

1. Blank First

The judge ranks you first, but can't seem to find the words to express how much they loved your speech (???). One time, I got one of these ballots, then Mom (who was in ballot push) heard someone talk about how that judge saw this one speech that was amazing and apparently that was me. He really raved about my speech, but didn't write anything on the ballot.

2. Blank 5th and Below

You find this ballot and expect to at least get some good advice on how to improve your speaking. But instead all you get is a 5th and below and no reason as to why they would do that to you. You are left with no idea what to do. (See also 'Great job!')

3. Re-Ranked

One time I was last in the room, and apparently the judge had already decided what to rank me before I had even gone, based off the last speakers. Then I "kept getting better" and he went from ranking me fifth to ranking me second. Of course, there are other time that I've been ranked higher, and dropped from second or third to fifth and below. It happens even more frequently with speaker points on debate ballots.

 4. "You have great potential!"

Everyone has gotten this. Is there always suggestions on how to reach your potential? No. But the assurance that you have 'great potential' will surely bring some form of encouragement. Except probably not.

5. 1AR Slow Down

If that judge had ever given a 1AR, they would not be telling me to slow down. I guess not everyone has gotten this on a ballot, since not everyone has given a 1AR, but if you have, you know what I'm talking about.

6. Partner Mix-Up

All too often, the judge will get partners mixed up, whether in duo or TP or parli. My friends who are identical twins are partnered in TP and, despite the fact that they are sure to clarify who is who in every speech, they still get mixed up. It's unbelievably frustrating.

7. Great Job! (Just kidding you lost)

Similar to Blank 5th and Below, this kind of ballot provides no advice on how to improve. It does, however, tell you that you have a 'wonderful speech' or that you did a 'great job!' -5th and below. Super encouraging.

8. Foreign Language

The ballot that you spend the majority of the ballot discussion at the ballot party attempting to translate. But, as hard as you squint and stare and tilt your head, you can't make out what they're saying.

9. Random Smiley Face

Some judges think that putting a smiley face at the end of a degrading sentence will lessen the impact. This is actually true. But often it's the only legible thing on the ballot. (Smile faces are pretty great, actually.)

10. Excellent and Good

I'm not sure what this means. Is it almost excellent, but not quite? Or is it really excellent? Or were they just indecisive? I DON'T KNOW.

If I wanted to, I could go through and count all my ballots, but that would take forever. The folder containing all my speech ballots from last year is almost an inch thick. I've read so many ballots and gotten every possible rank (even eighth.) I've gotten crazy, infuriating ballots. I've gotten ballots that made my tournament.

I've cried and laughed over ballots, but in the end, they're not what matters. They won't be what we remember once we've graduated. It's the relationships and friendships built over our years in speech and debate. Maybe not all of those friendships continue after we graduate, but regardless, they are worth treasuring and worth fighting for.

And I just turned a post about ballots into a post about friendships. You're welcome.

Vote affirmative, even if the judge didn't.

(This post is part of a series called The Third Year Chronicles. Click here for TTYC #15)

((*DISCLAIMER* for the record, I know judges are the reason we can have this event. I'm undyingly grateful for the time they spend watching us and judging us. They can be frustrating sometimes, but so can we, as the competitors. Don't get me started on the crazy things people do in rounds.))

Every Tournament - The Third Year Chronicles #15

This past weekend I attended my seventeenth tournament. This was one of the... most interesting tournaments I've been to. It was one of the few tournaments I've been to without my club being a huge presence. There were only about 11 of us, aside from the juniors. The order of rounds was divergent from the average. It rained. It was foggy and cloudy. But regardless of this, there were some things that were the same as at every tournament.

Over the last couple of years, I've noticed these things are unchanging at nearly every tournament.

1. Mispronounced Names

During breaks and awards, the tournament director, no matter who he or she may be, mispronounces at least one name. Every. Single. Time. Often, the whole tournament has to shout the correct pronunciation at the director. (i.e. Wasilewski). Even if this person wins everything, the name still gets said wrong. Every tournament director does it, and we get over it.

2. Postings Stampede

Postings go up. Everyone charges the wall and surrounds the postings person. Feet are stepped on. Debate boxes are tripped over. Most debate related injuries occur here.

3. Fake Postings Stampede

Someone yells POSTINGS over the noise of the student area, and sometimes they get a group to go with them to to postings wall. But, in reality, it's just postings from the last round. People are deceived. People are angered. Those responsible for the fake rush are frequently sent to the Debate Dungeon.

4. New Embarrassing Tournament Stories

For instance, during prep before the first parli round, I was chewing gum. The judge arrived before the other team, and while we were waiting for said team, I figured I should spit out my gum. I stood up and walked behind the judge to the trash can. I bent over and, before I spit the gum out, hit my head against the whiteboard. I dropped my braided hair and it fell back over my shoulder and I spit my gum out and it landed in my hair. I tried madly to get it out, but, as you may know, gum and hair is not the greatest combination. So I had gum in my hair and on my hands and it was gross.

5. Ballot Party Insanity

The ballot party on Saturday was small, and ballots weren't discussed much. Rather, we talked about the atrocity of the Hobbit movies and even more insane tournaments and other stuff I don't remember because I was exhausted. As always, we got a little loud (mostly Katie. She was loud.) and we got shushed by a member of the hotel staff, and we discussed how cliche such an act was.

(From Thirty Seconds Used)

Also, I asked people to vote affirmative. But that doesn't actually happen every tournament. It does, however, happen every blog post.

So yeah... You should do that.

(This post is part of a series called The Third Year Chronicles. Click here for TTYC #14)

Tournament Exhaustion - The Third Year Chronicles #14

It's the third day since the end of the tournament. I still can't wake up at a decent time (for this I have post tournament sleep disorder to blame). I have yet another tournament the first week of December, and I refuse to acknowledge that that is next week (Ahh!). Surely I can't have another tournament so soon?

Actually, I have two tournaments next month. And I had two this month. At least I'll get to listen to Christmas music free of criticism and judgement from certain parties. (Hey, Hallmark has had Christmas stuff in the front window since September.)

So where will that leave me?

Tired. Really tired. I barely have a free week between now and Christmas, and very little time to recover from tournamenting so hard and so long. At least I finally cleaned my room, which had grown in disorder since September and the end of my free time.

Don't get me wrong, I'm really looking forward to the tournaments coming up in the next month, but sleeping until 1:00PM sounds pretty appealing right now. Unfortunately, my brain has got it in its head that I need to wake up 6:30. Every. Day.

But that's cool. I'll just read the first chapters of books I really want on Amazon. If you wanted to know what to get me for Christmas, the answer is books.

Vote affirmative. I'm too exhausted to think of a creative reason why.

(This post is part of a series called The Third Year Chronicles. Click here for TTYC #13)

My Speech - The Third Year Chronicles #13

I didn't think much about one of our senior's absence at club on Thursday. Her nonattendance wouldn't directly affect me. Only it did.

Every week at club, between speech and debate, we have what's called the IF Moment (IF standing for Invictus Fides). It consists of parents/coaches and older students giving a devotional/message thing to the rest of the club. This last week, the aforementioned senior was supposed to give said devotional. However, she got sick and her attendance would've risked spreading the illness.

As extemp dismissed for the IF moment, Mrs. H commented that she didn't have someone for the IF moment. Apparently, in the seconds that followed, I lost all ability to think before I spoke. Now, even if I had thought about it, I probably still would've responded the same way. But the words kind of just came out of my mouth unimpeded.

"I can give my speech."

I had finished memorizing the OO I wrote in August not 24 hours prior to the club meeting. (Yes, it took me three months to memorize a ten minute speech.) When I wrote the speech, I thought that it would be a good speech to give as the IF moment, I just hadn't gathered the courage to ask if I could do it.

So when the opportunity arose, I took it. Then I freaked out because there's like a hundred people in our club and I memorized my speech literally the before. I sat down in the front row as Mrs. Martin made announcements. My parli partner criticized me jokingly for having my script with me for back up.

My hands shook as Mrs. Martin called me up. I stared back at the crowd of IF-ers and I gave my speech. Then I went to debate and everything was normal.

Anyway I'm going to go freak out about the tournament this weekend. You should vote affirmative.

(This post is part of a series called The Third Year Chronicles. Click here for TTYC #12)

People - The Third Year Chronicles #12

I arrived at the tournament facility early. My mom works in ballot push, so I showed up a half hour earlier than everyone else. I sat at a table near the judges' area and pulled out Pride and Prejudice. A few people from Action, the debate club hosting the tournament, were there early to help set up. I set the book down after reading a chapter and start greeting my few friends who were there.

Then people really started showing up. It was, of course to be expected. But, for some reason, I wasn't expecting it. Maybe I was too busy trying to get my really buddy to calm down about LD, or because I was too excited about parli to think about it. But when the tournament came I wasn't expecting the abundance of people. I recognized many of them, and met more.

I can't believe I forgot about my favorite part of tournaments. The hanging out and talking and laughing and the friendship. It's rare to find a group of people who have camaraderie like we have in Stoa, or at least in StoaSouth.

Debate is awesome and speech is great but we tend to forget that one of the best parts of this whole homeschool forensics thing is the friendships. Tournament would be stressful and boring if we focused only on the competition and ignored the fellowship.

Vote affirmative, and don't forget.

(This post is part of a series called The Third Year Chronicles. Click here for TTYC #11)

The First Tournament - The Third Year Chronicles #11

Tomorrow I am leaving for the first tournament of the season. At least, the first tournament for me. There are some states that had tournaments as soon as possible. Why they would do that is beyond me, but other states are crazy (in the best way).

So now a bunch of us are freaking out because omigoshthere'satournamentintwodays. There are briefs to print and cases to tweak and whatever LDers do to do. It's a debate only tournament, so there aren't many speeches to memorize. But that's just an excuse not to memorize my speech that I wrote in August.

Now is the time we should be freaking out, right? I mean, we have 36 hours before the tournament and that is clearly not enough time to do everything we were supposed to do a month ago. And if you don't get all your stuff done you won't win any rounds or get any speaker awards and you certainly won't get a green checkmark. You'll get up to the lectern and spew out gibberish about email privacy or freedom of speech or whatever that parli resolution may be. All that hard work you did at the last minute gone to waste.

It's natural at this point to panic. You're drowning in piles and piles of briefs and flow sheets and suits and check lists and insanity. There's all this work to be done and no time in which to do it.

Stop. For like, two seconds, just stop. That card isn't going to vanish into the void. Your heels will not go missing moments before you pack them. Calm down for one second and listen to me.

You don't have to have everything together. You don't need to have every brief in its exact spot. The tournament will go on regardless of whether or not you remembered to bring eyeshadow and mascara. You may have to use a hotel printer or buy shoes from Wal-Mart. You may have to borrow someone else's tie.

You don't have to have every last thing perfectly lined up. You don't have to give the best speech you've ever given every single round. You don't have to take home trophies or medals or green check marks. You don't have to break to finals or win every round. If those are the reasons why you're competing, then go ahead and freak out and panic and quadruple check every last thing.

It's okay to be nervous. But don't stress yourself out over one tournament. This is the first tournament and you don't have to have it all together. Which is good because I don't think we could.

So calm down. Take a deep breath. Then you can do all the things you need to do and actually survive until the tournament.

Vote affirmative, and pleasedon'tfreakout.

(This post is part of a series called The Third Year Chronicles. Click here for TTYC #10)

The First Tourney This Season - The Third Year Chronicles #10

(Inspired by for the First Time In Forever, from Disney's Frozen, as well as the upcoming tournament season.)

Registration is open, the schedule's announced

I didn't think they'd tell us this that fast

Who know we'd need 8,000 TP briefs?

For months I've researched for extemp

Why have give an OO with no judge?

There are already people on the waiting list

There'll be actual real debate rounds

Not just practice at club

But wow am I so ready for those breaks

At the first tourney this season

There'll be extemp and duo

At the first tourney this season

I'll be giving my OO

I don't know if I'm just nervous and anxious

Or if I'm actually prepared

But at the first tourney this season

I'll be with my friends

That night imagine me standing up

Waiting for them to call first place

The picture of nerves and excitement

I'm suddenly standing all alone

Everyone else from finals called on stage

I want to freak out, cry, but I keep face

And then I walk and take my trophy

Which is totally amaze

Nothing like the medals from last year

At the first tourney this season

I can read first place ballots

At the first tourney this season

I can take home big trophies

And I know it is totally crazy

To think I'll even place

But at the first tourney this season

At least of I've got a chance

Don't let them in

Don't let them see

Give the platform you always have to give

OO, extemp

Do persuasive

Give one interp and everyone will know

But there's only four weeks left

(There's only four weeks left)

It's agony to prep

(It's agony to prep)

Tell me when there's only one day left

(One day)

At the first tourney this season

I'm getting what I've waited for

A chance to give my brand new speech

A chance to see my friends

And I know it all ends that Sunday

So it has to be that week

Cause at the first tourney this season

The first tourney this season

Nothing's in my way!

For the first time in forever, vote affirmative.

(This post is part of a series called The Third Year Chronicles. Click here for TTYC #9)

Things Change - The Third Year Chronicles #9

(People do these a lot, right? Letters to themselves, what they wish they'd known two or five or ten years ago. This one is to little novice me, specifically in October of 2012, about a month before the first tournament.)

Dear Hadley,

It's your novice year. The start of your speech and debate career. The start of many friendships. You're starting to overcome your fears. You shake when you stand up to give a speech, and, I'm sorry to say, you still will in the years to come. But that's okay. It's mostly adrenaline anyway.

You're afraid. You don't want to disappoint all the people who keep saying you're going to do well this year. Don't let the pressure get to you. Listen to what your coaches say and you'll do fine. You won't win every round or get first place on every ballot. You may have to wait a year or so for trophies, but that's fine. Trophies seem so big and unattainable right now. Hold on to that. Let 1st place ballots matter. Don't treat them like they're ordinary. Someone ranked you  above seven other competitors. That's not something small.

Right now, a month before your first tournament, you're still wondering why you got yourself into this. The elephant in the room hasn't gotten much smaller than it was at debate camp. You barely know the difference between solvency and significance, and the word 'parametrics' makes you dizzy. The thought of giving an impromptu speech makes you want to curl into a ball and weep. That feeling will go away--mostly.

And, oh, the people. So many people. Right now it seems as though you know everyone's name, yet no one knows yours. That will change. Soon, people will run up to you, calling your name, greeting you with all the enthusiasm of Daniel Martin. Your days of pathetic friendlessness are over. You'll make many friends this year. However, not all of them will stay your friends. That's okay. You'll find new friends--or they may find you. The people you think you'll stay friends with for a long time won't always do as such. People who you think you won't ever be close to may surprise you.

Things won't always be this way. No year is the same as the last. Things change, and they change quite a bit at times. Some things get easier--impromptu speeches, debate research, speaking in front of others. Some things get harder--keeping friendships, staying within time limits on all your speeches, Things get stressful and crazy. Sometimes they may break your heart.

You'll learn how to overcome your fears and your pride and your insecurity, though those things never truly end. You'll learn how to face failures and face successes. But you know something that I seem to forget: it's not about the stress, the trophies, the fifth and belows. You're not focused on those things right now. You've heard stories of success and stories of failure. Losing stories and 1st place trophy stories. The point of all of those stories: the trophies and medals and 1st places don't matter. What is important is the people. The people in the stories. The people in your life. Make time for people--not things.

Things change. Hold on to what you have now. Hold on to moments. Embarrassing ones (there are lots of those), awkward ones, devastating ones, wonderful ones. Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, rather, in humility, value others above yourself. (Philippians 2:3. A good verse there, lovey.) Remember that, when everything seems chaotic, that God's love will always remain.

It's my third year. Things here are different than they were two years ago when I didn't know what permutation was (still trying to figure that out, actually). I watch novices like you as they start to grasp what this whole debate thing looks like (though some have a pretty good idea already.) They ask questions I immediately know the answer to--then I realize that I asked the same questions when I was a novice; when I was you.

Parli, extemp, duo, DI, finals, medals, trophies, green checkmarks, humility, laughter. Stress, headaches, e-ring, clean up, emails, insecurity, tears. It's life in speech and debate, and it gets crazy sometimes. But crazy is good, right? So don't be upset that things are changing. There is beauty in change, even in heartbreak. There it beauty and wonder and sometimes pain.

Hold on to right now. Don't cling to it as a comfort zone, but remember it. I was you only two years ago, but things have changed. They'll change even more in the future, I'm sure. But, wow, it hit me hard this year. Don't be afraid, even if things do change.

Yours truly,
~Hadley Grace

(P.S.- Remember to always, always vote affirmative.)

(This post is part of a series called The Third Year Chronicles. Click here for TTYC #8.)

Expectations - The Third Year Chronicles #8

I paced back and forth across the floor of my narrow bathroom, feeling trapped and alone. It wasn't like I was locked in the bathroom. No, it was just summer. A summer that seemed as though it would drag on until I died of loneliness. People can die from that, right?

Speech camp felt as though it would never come. I sat on the ground, and, unable to stop them, let a few tears roll down my face.  I wanted summer to end, and I wanted it to end now. Once the summer ended,  I would write and practice speeches. I would learn about the new resolution. I would learn how to parli. But most importantly, I would see my friends. I couldn't wait. I couldn't wait. I could not wait.

But I was also worried, afraid, apprehensive, other synonyms for concerned. While I wasn't expecting the coming year to be totally and completely divergent from my first and second years, the fear that perhaps it would be bit at me. But I pushed it away. Everything was going to be fine. Everything was going to be perfect.


I'm really bad at predicting the ending of stories. So I usually don't try. Actually, I try not to. I let the story play out, never trying to guess at what will happen next. Because of this, I rarely think of books or movies as predictable--unless they are so grossly predictable that even I, in all my poor foreseeing abilities, can tell exactly what is going to happen next.


However, I am not at all like this in real life. I don't think I do it intentionally, but I find myself trying to figure out what will happen next week or next month or next year. But, as I am with fictional stories, I'm no good at predicting what will happen in my actual life. Alas, I am a dreamer. I enjoy looking ahead to the future, even just the near future. This leads to expectations. Expectations lead to disappointments.

I was going to see my friends. It was a month after debate camp had ended. I would be going to the first club meeting of the year in mere minutes.

Despite arriving only a few minutes late, I managed to walk in after announcements had started. No problem. I would just have to enthusiastically greet all of my friends after the club briefing ended. I sat anxiously through the meeting, waiting for the moment of release and socialization.

I expected my second year of speech and debate to be significantly different than my first. And, sure, there were a few changes. I made new friends and lost a couple of others. The tournaments I went to varied in population from the previous year. But overall, it wasn't all that different than before. Subtracting the massive disappointment of not attending NITOC.

So after last year's unremarkable differences, I was expecting this year to resemble last year in most ways, with the same sort of differences. Differences that wouldn't appear until tournament season was in full swing. I'm really bad at predicting things.

I had never felt this stressed before. And I've had to print of briefs and script forms at 11:00pm the day before a tournament. But this was something else. I had skimmed over the many emails I had received whilst in Arkansas prepping my case with my TP partner. But now I was back from Arkansas and I had all sorts of things to do before club tomorrow afternoon. My e-ring was due (quite graciously) before club the next morning. There were things on ISIS I had to watch and read and learn. I had to send emails to the loop about cleaning. Oh and I was feeling especially inspired to write in my novel that evening. Great timing, inspiration. Also, there was this thing called sleep that I kind of sort of needed a lot. Maybe staying extra days in Arkansas was a bad idea. Maybe I should've waited for a less stressful time.

It's not just the research and emails that I've been stressing out about. Something happened this summer (I won't go into details) that changed my perspective on my friendships. Suddenly, my relationships didn't seem so permanent and didn't seem as meaningful. Almost every week after club for the past four weeks, I've found myself questioning my friendships. I'm worried that I'll lose relationships I really value. Maybe none of these fears are founded, and I'll move past this. But right now I don't know what to expect.

Maybe I should stop trying to predict what will happen next. As I stated earlier, it will lead to disappointment.

So far this year has not been what I expected it to be. But God doesn't operate by our expectations. I guess I just have to trust Him and His plan and not my own suppositions. Maybe it's better that way.

Vote affirmative. It's the expected response.

(This post is part of a series called The Third Year Chronicles. Click here for TTYC #7.)