If People Asked Questions Like Debaters

If you have ever attended a lecture dedicated to the topic of cross examination, you probably know that, in order to utilize your CX time to its fullest, you should ask close ended questions. While an admittedly excellent strategy in debate rounds, questioning of this nature is not an effective way to communicate in real life. But what if we did ask questions like debaters?

Normal: We're out of cereal.
Debater: Would you agree that, under the status quo, we are in need of Lucky Charms?

Normal:  The dogs used the bathroom in the living room.
Debater: Were you aware that the dogs have failed to relieve themselves, you know, outside?

Normal: You've been playing video games for a long time.
Debater: Isn't it accurate to say that you have been playing video games for seven consecutive hours?

Normal: Go pick up all your stuff from the bathroom floor.
Debater: Would it be fair to say that you really need to clean our bathroom?

Normal: How are you?
Debater: Is it your contention that you are doing well today?

Normal: We should have frisbee next week.
Debater: Would you agree that we need to have frisbee next weekend?

Normal: Do you want to hang out on Saturday?
Debater: Is it fair to say that you are free this Saturday?

Normal: Can I have one of your Starbursts?
Debater: Were you aware that there are currently no pink Starbursts in my possestion?

Normal: Vote affirmative.
Debater: It's for all these reasons I strongly urge an affirmative ballot at the end of today's debate round.

Well, that one's kind of weird anyway. I mean, who goes around asking people to vote affirma--Oh. Yeah...

Vote affirmative, because you ask questions like a weir--I mean DEBATER.

Tournaments Are The Greatest

October: The month in which CHSADKs panic about the impending tournament season and stress out over everything. Right now we are very concerned with finding evidence and writing cases and memorizing/actually writing speeches, We stress out about the news because who knows what whacko question we may get in extemp. We have nightmares about buying the wrong type of flow pen. Our printer has nervous breakdowns because of the excessive brief printing. We have a nervous breakdown because it's 9:30 Wednesday night and you have five pieces of evidence to find before midnight.

But let's slow down a minute. At this time of year, it's super easy to start stressing out about assignments and speech memorizing and case finding. Between everything we have to do to get ready for tournaments, we forget about the amazing things that come along with tournaments. This post is dedicated to that very subject.

1. Something to do on the weekends

Admittedly, I have pretty much no life outside speech and debate (deal with it Hans). Occasionally, we'll do something like frisbee or Main Event, but most times the weekend is spent filing extemp articles and researching some obscure case only one person in the country is running (forage fish, ft-dubz).

2. You see all your people

Despite having no life outside of speech and debate, I have plenty of friends. Unfortunately, not all of them are from my club. Not all of them are from my city. Not all of them are from my state. This means I see these people only at tournaments. This means that I over-react when I do see them and I may get a little... excited.

3. Talking to walls is normal

Under most circumstances, talking to walls is considered socially unacceptable. This changes at tournaments. You'll walk down a hallway and spot an interper making weird facial expressions and consistently shifting body positions, or a platformer reciting their lines with all the passion of a platformer. But they aren't giving their speeches to other competitors or parents. They are reciting their speech at the wall. After observing this occurrence, you proceed to turn towards a nearby corner and begin to give your speech, whatever it may be.

4. Awesome ballot parties commence

Admittedly, not all ballot parties are totally stupendously amazing. Occasionally, there will just be a bunch of debaters hanging around a hotel lobby saying unintelligible things that no one remember come the morning. But then there are the ballot parties that go down in history as ballot parties that changed ballot partying as we know it. (Okay, those don't happen very often.) Most times it's just a lot of fun to hang out with your friends without worrying about being on time to extemp prep.

5. Breaks

When doing postings at club, there are always a few people who try to start the forensic clap after every team name, myself included. We usually (always) get shut down. But during a breaks at a tournament, they can't shut us down. But the forensic clap isn't the only great part about breaks. I love watching people's reactions when they break, and I love hearing my friends names. Even if I can't sleep the night before because of all the nerves.

6. Blog post inspiration

After tournaments, I'm always overflowing with inspiration for blog posts and I have to restrain myself from posting five things in one day.  Thus, there is a post boom during tournament season. You're all welcome.

I could go on, but I'll hold back so you can get back to e-ring.

Vote affirmative, because you know how great tournaments are.

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.)

I Do Parli - The Third Year Chronicles #7

(Inspired by 'I See the Light' from Disney's Tangled and my participation in parli this year.)

All those days researching one topic

All those years, with one single rez

All that time, printing off TP briefs and doing e-ring

Now I have fifteen minute prep time

Now I have dozens of flow sheets

Prepping here, it's oh so clear

I'm where I'm meant to be

And at last I do parli

There's no cross-examination

At last I do parli

And it's like the rez is new

And it's fast paced with no prep

And my partnerships have shifted

All at once the resolution's different

I'm partnered with you.

All those days dragging my debate box

All those years madly printing briefs

All that time wishing I could knock during my partner's speech

Now we're here, writing down contentions

Now we're here, suddenly I know

Debating here, it's crystal clear

I'm where I'm meant to go

And at last I do parli
There's no cross-examination
At last I do parli
And it's like the rez is new
And it's fast paced with no prep
And my partnerships have shifted
All at once the resolution's different
I'm partnered with you.

(This post is part of a series called The Third Year Chronicles. Click here for TTYC #6.)

I Can Go To NITOC - The Third Year Chronicles #6

(Based off I Can Go The Distance from Disney's Hercules.)

I have often dreamed of a tournament
Where a great big trophy will be waiting for me
Where the crowds will cheer when they hear my speech
And the judges keep saying that I win first place

I will write my speech, I can find a thesis
My great speech topic will make judges shed tears
I know every ballot, will leave me ranked first
I would practice for hours 'til I qualify for Nats

I just wrote my speech, I can give my thesis
Tournaments are long, but somehow I'll be strong
I know every coach will help me do well
I will go to tournaments until I qualify

***

Yes, I have often dreamed of such a tournament. I will indeed write my speech, along with a thesis statement to go with it. I will practice and my coaches will help me. However, not all of my ballots are going to rank me first. I may not go home with giant trophies that are perfect for eating unhealthy servings of ice-cream. I don't know if I will qualify for NITOC. But Nationals shouldn't be the goal. Yes, it's a great and wonderful thing, qualifying for nats. Yes, I would totally like to go to NITOC in all of my events (and I have a crazy amount of events).

But those two coveted green checkmarks aren't what we should be competing for. As we go into this speech and debate year, we need to be reminded of that. We won't win every round and we won't win every tournament and we may not even go to NITOC. Does that mean that all the hard work we poured into our speeches and into our beloved cases and briefs is wasted?

NO!!!

If your reason for competing in speech and debate is trophies and medals and glory, then, as Jordan Taylor would say, you're doing it wrong! The hardware is fine. Win trophies, get checkmarks, go to NITOC. But please, please remember why we love speech and debate so much.

It's the nerves we feels during breaks, wanting desperately for our friends to break. It's the cold lunches we share with our people at tournaments. It's the friendships we develop at tournaments and club meetings and the time in between. It's the reaction your friend has when they get their first 1st Place ballot. It's the clapping and cheering during awards as our friends walk across the stage. It's the adrenaline rushes and excitement before every round and every tournament.

There are so many things I love about speech and debate, but most of all, I love the people. You guys, my people, my friends, my family.

I want to qualify for NITOC. I want to win trophies. But those things aren't my goals this year. This year I want to show love to other people. I'll pray for my fellow competitors, not just right before rounds, but between tournaments, because we all have our struggles, and we all need prayer. I want to encourage other competitors, not tear them down. I want to be known for showing God's love to everyone around--judges, competitors, parents, juniors. I want our club to be known for showing God's love. I want Stoa to be known for showing God's love.

Trophies are nice, and it feels good to have medals dangling around your neck. But don't let those things, or a NITOC qualifying checkmark become your goal.

Vote affirmative, but, more importantly, show love to others, and remember why we do this crazy thing called forensics.

(This post is part of a series called The Third Year Chronicles. Click here for TTYC #5.)

Ice Breakers - The Third Year Chronicles #5

(My words. Not her's. But she's pretty much the best.)

No, I'm not talking about those big ships that go up to the arctic and literally break ice. I'm talking about the little 'games' we play before the lectures and stuff start. My fabulous debate coach (the one so accurately depicted above) makes all her debaters give everyone else their name and a random fact about themselves. The goal is to get conversations started later after club when we socialize. Like, if someone tells you that the FBI knocked on their front door, later you can ask them why the stock issues they did that.

Whenever Mrs. H announces that we're doing this exercise, I instantly start raking through the last fifteen years of my life for something even remotely interesting to say, and I don't think 'I'm Conner's brother' is gonna cut it. 'I wrote the first draft of a novel this summer by hand,' seems like I'm bragging. 'I have the best debate coach, like, ever (thing Taylor Swift),' also seems like I'm bragging. (Even though both of these things are true.) What can I say that won't make them think I'm bragging?

Eventually, I decided to tell everyone that I have a speech and debate themed blog called Kitkats and Impromptu (then I ended it with a desperate plea for people to read it to boost my self confidence, so if you're reading this (which you are), thank you. Seriously. Thank you.)

I'm a third year. I shouldn't be afraid to stand up and say like, two things, right? I shouldn't get nervous and flushed whenever I think about having to talk to people, right? My stomach shouldn't get filled with butterflies, much less the feeling of humming birds flying about in there. I shouldn't start sweating bullets. I shouldn't panic internally about what I should say. Right?

Right???

Evidently, wrong.

Even as an experienced speaker, I still get nervous and scared before debate rounds, and speech rounds, and even when I get up just to say my name and a random fact. I wring my hands and pace outside rounds to hide my shaking. I fan myself with my trembling hands to keep from turning the color of a ripe tomato. Even in normal, everyday conversations, I fear that a misstep in my words will cause everyone to think that I'm an idiot. I fear that no one will hear what I have to say - or worse, that they won't care.

So yes, I've been doing speech and debate for two years. I've given countless speeches in front of countless people. I've read ballots that make my spirits soar and ones that crush my soul. I have a lot of friends (I'm not bragging. I just have a lot of friends). I have conversations with people. And I still get nervous.

But it's not about being nervous or being completely calm. It's about taking those nerves and pushing them aside. It's taking that fear and saying, 'Jesus has overcome the world and He will help me overcome you.' It's speaking through the shaking and through the crying and through the fear. Maybe I won't give the speech that wins NITOC this round. Maybe I'll bumble through a piece of evidence because I haven't read it before. Maybe I'll give a speech that moves judges to tears. Maybe I'll go down the flow in a way the judge will comprehend completely. But if I let fear stop me from doing something I love, none of these things will happen. I'll never qualify for NITOC. I'll never make friends. I'll never inspire judges.

I don't know how many years you've competed in speech and debate. I don't know what league you compete in. I don't know if you've ever competed at all. But there is something I want you to know: I'm a third year debater, and I'm still afraid of public speaking. I still get nervous. I often times fear what others think of me. But...

I still speak. I still write. I still make friends.

Vote affirmative, and don't let fear stop you.

(This post is part of a series called The Third Year Chronicles. Click here for TTYC #4.)