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.)