Novices

Not quite as adorable as the juniors, but still pretty cute, the twelve year old newbies arenjustbas great as the juniors. And I don't ever have to rank them fifth and below, and that's always a plus.

Ah, novices. So young and ignorant to our strange debater ways. They are only just learning the four legs of the cow (or chair, if you're boring like that). They repeat the components of four point refutation like their lives depend on it. They look on in terror as an advanced student explains counter plans. They try to flow speeches word for word. They get candy for reading evidence (seriously? Why don't I get candy?). They debate about super heroes and cats vs dogs.

Meanwhile, we boring advanceds are researching the resolution six months in advance. We recite our 1ACs in our sleep - literally.  We've already eaten most of the elephant.

But we were novices before started finishing our evidence ring assignments within the first five minutes. We, too, argued about Barbies and J.I. Joe. We cried at our first week of ering. (Well, that may just be me.) We MPXed Disney Princesses to nuclear war. We ran topicality in the 1NR. (Again, that may just be me. Also, never run topicality in the 1NR.) But by the end of the year, we knew (at least sort of) what the stock issues were for (#tipthecow). We learned how to flow kind of legibly and chances are, we won some rounds. Maybe we didn't break. Maybe we didn't win the whole tournament or get thirty speaker points. But we lived. We learned some lessons, both about debate and about life. We made friends.

From the day we arrive at the tournament, and blinking step into the round. There's more to argue than can ever be run, more rounds than can ever be won. There's far too much to take in yet, more postings than can ever be seen. But the bags rolling far, through the first tournament, keep going on, to the end of the week. IT'S THE CIRCLE OF LIFEEEEEEEE, AND IT MOVES US AAAAAALLLLL-

Wait, that's the Lion King.

Vote affirmative, cause they just can't wait to be advanced. Or something.

Juniors

I'm not talking about the year before being a senior in highschool or college or whatever. I am, of course. talking about those really cute kids who are too young to compete in speech and debate, but have older siblings who are winning tournaments and want in on the trophy action. They are 100% cuter than us varsity kids and have a much greater ability to scream at high pitches (don't ask me how I know that. My ears are still hurting).

This past week I got to teach at our club's Junior Speech camp. (I was, of course, the best instructor.) (Okay not really. It depends on which kids you ask.) We played Sharks and Minnows, Elf-Giant-Man (think rock-paper-scissors), Attack the Instructor (actually the game was called Fruit Basket Turnovers. But an instructor was attacked.), and more. I taught cute little kids how to time speeches. I gave cute little kids pizza. I heard cute little kids scream far too loud (and let me tell you, those children are far less cute when they shout at pitches that should only be heard by dogs). I told cute little kids the story of the Stinky Cheese Man. You get the I idea- I was with cute little kids all day.

Okay, confession time: there were some ten and eleven year olds that were almost or as tall as me. Not gonna lie, I thought I would be with people I would feel tall around. I was mistaken. I did get to stand in the back row of the group picture. I don't get to do that very often. Most times I'm directly behind the people on their knees. Thanks, juniors, for being slightly shorter than me.

One of the reasons I love juniors is because I used to be one. That, of course, is a whole other story. If you stalk the archives you can find that story, told in like, four different posts. Judging them is both really fun and really hard. I know from very personal experience the way 5th and Belows on a ballot feel when you're nine. But teaching them is the best. You should try it some time.

Vote affirmative. Otherwise, you'll probably break the nine-year-olds' hearts. And mine.

You Know You're A Christian Homeschooled Speech and Debate Kid When... 2

(So it's been over a month since I posted anything. Let's just say I was on summer break, okay? And that just means that I haven't been feeling particularly creative. So now I'm just posting sequels, because who doesn't love a good sequel. Like HTTYD2. Best. Sequel. Ever. Anyway, this is a direct rip off of Blimeycow's You might be a homeschooler if. So I guess I'm double un-creative.)

You know you're a CHSADK when your speech and debate Pinterest board has more pins than your dress board.

You know you're a CHSADK when you freak out when you finally meet your alumni hero.

You know you're a CHSADK when your vacation is decided by NITOC's location.

You know you're a CHSADK when you get upset when you realize you won't be giving your speeches from this/last year again.

You know you're a CHSADK when you get excited about buying new flowpads and pens before speech and debate camp.

You know you're a CHSADK when you start planning speeches for next year before this year is over.

You know you're a CHSADK when talking to walls is perfectly normal behavior.

You know you're a CHSADK when you have no social life during the summer because there are no club meetings or tournaments.

You know you're a CHSADK when you spend far too much time stalking Facebook for NITOC photos while wishing you were there.

You know you're a CHSADK when the act of throwing away your flowing pens from the past year is a mournful occasion.

You know you're a CHSADK when you get weird stares from the people in Starbucks because you're in full tournament attire.

You know you're a CHSADK when you get confused when people clap more than once for one person.

You know you're a CHSADK when others get on to you for parli knocking outside of tournaments. 

You know you're a CHSADK when you have tournament nightmares in the middle of the summer.

You know you're a CHSADK when you feel bad for not asking if everyone is ready before your piano recital (or whatever activity you do outside of debate.)

You know you're a CHSADK when you gasp in shock when people tell you they have a life outside debate.

You know you're a CHSADK when no one in your youth group understands your obscure debate references.

You know you're a CHSADK when you understand these jokes.

You know you're a CHSADK when your favorite webcomic consists of stick figures and speech and debate themed parodies of popular songs.

You know you're a CHSADK when Blimey Cow nails every aspect of your life.

You know you're a CHSADK when you inform your friends that the Debate Dungeon is very real.

You know you're a CHSADK when the vast majority of your blog posts are centered around how great speech and debate it.

You know you're a CHSADK when you dread the summer because there's no speech and debate.

You know you're a CHSADK when you spend way too much time reading SCHSADKL when you should be writing briefs.

You know you're a CHSADK when watching speeches on Youtube is research for your persuasive.

You know you're a CHSADK when it's hard to recognize your friends when they're not wearing suits. 

You know you're a CHSADK when you say NCFCA so fast that people think you're saying enceeifceea.

You know you're a CHSADK when you laugh at the 'that's debatable' joke no matter how old it gets.

You know you're a CHSADK when you have to take out the debater-ese out of your speech for fear of confusing community judges.

You know you're a CHSADK when you spend free time reading and reorganizing old ballots.

You know you're a CHSADK when you freak out because the timer (like a kid, not a time piece) just started counting down the last ten seconds and you didn't even see the other hand signals.

You know you're a CHSADK when you take a break from blog post writing because you haven't done any speech and debate related activities.

Vote affirmative. Maybe I'll try harder to find things to blog about.

The Truths We Don't Believe

I'm not sure when I fell in love with the Chronicles of Narnia, but I think it was sometime around six years old, when the first, non terrible BBC movie came out. But I really fell in love with Narnia when I was eight,  and in the Prince Caspian play at CATS. But I'm not here to talk about that.

When I first watched TLtWatW, I thought it was funny when Aslan called Edmund, King Edmund, the Just. This was because I didn't know that just actually meant fair, and not average. (Like, that's just a muffin, and not a cupcake. Get it? Good.) After my sister told me what just really meant, I didn't think much of it. Until today.

I've been super bored this week. As I said in my last post, I didn't end up going to NITOC this year, so I sat around watching OUAT and bad Disney channel movies. I really don't have any idea as to why I was thinking about Edmund the Just today, but it occurred to me:

Edmund probably didn't think he was just.

He had gone and betrayed his own family. He probably didn't even think he deserved to be king. At that moment, he wasn't feeling very just.

But that's what Aslan called him. Not only just, but king. The person lion who had just sacrificed himself for this traitor called him king. And I seriously doubt that Edmund felt deserving of those things. And, truthfully, he wasn't.

Aslan saw something in him that Ed couldn't see himself. Aslan, the great lion, the very embodiment of kingliness and justness, called someone who was a traitor those very things. And because Aslan said it, Edmund could believe it.

I got to thinking today, maybe we're the same way.

Before I got medals and trophies and green check-marks, I know that I was.

I didn't think I would ever be good at anything- seriously, that's exactly what I thought. I'll never be good at anything. At all. I would never as good at speech as my siblings. Never be as good at writing as my favorite authors. Never be good at singing or dancing or piano. I didn't compete when I was twelve because I was afraid. Afraid that I'd never be good enough.

The summer before my novice year of speech and debate, I went on a mission trip called MPACT. (You remember. Last year I got sent home.) A few weeks later, my awesome youth leader, Sarah, asked me to give a little two minute speech about my experience at MPACT. I had to get up in front of the church, on stage, and talk about how I had no friends. (Seriously.) I'm really bad at guessing numbers, so I won't. It's a small church, so there weren't a whole lot of people. I thought I'd be fine. Until, you know, the actually day that I was supposed to do it.

In the minutes leading up to my big speech, my stomach became an Olympic gymnast and my hands started sweating like the place was on fire. Shaking like the epicenter of my own earthquake, I walked on stage and stood in front of the microphone that was low enough for short little me. It took everything in me not to burst into tears and run off that stage. I looked at my dad and pressed through my story, sniffling and um-ing and trying not to pass out. The whole experience was a real shot to the heart of the little hope I had of ever achieving anything, forensics wise.

At least, I thought it was.

I was shaking like nobody's business. I was on the verge of tears. I was saying 'um' like there was no tomorrow. But despite all that, I was getting words out. I was pressing through it. I was swallowing those tears and clenching my fists. I fought through it.

Up on that stage, sniffling up a storm, I didn't feel it. I didn't look it. I didn't believe it.

I was brave.

I know dozens of speech and debaters who could've got up on that stage and delivered a flawless presentation. And now, nearly two years later, maybe I'm one of those CHSADKs. But I wasn't then.

When I couldn't believe it myself, God told me I was brave.

With a microphone, a bent up notebook, shaking hands and watering eyes, God whispered in my ear- brave.

Since my little MPACT speech, I've given countless more, in and out of tournaments. I've gotten fifth and belows, I've gotten firsts, I've even gotten an eighth. Even after all those speeches, all those tournaments, I still get nervous. My palms sweat like the ocean, my hands shake like San Fransisco, my heart pounds like I just ran three miles. But, every time, I get up there. I give my speech to the judges. Whether it's DI or OO or impromptu or TP. I stand up and speak. Sometimes I have to push through tears to do it. Sometimes I do it in slippers. But I do it. I don't always win. I don't always loose. But with every round, every ballot, every tournament, God whispers 'brave.' 

I guess I'm a little bit like Edmund. I would think that nothing good could come from me, because of my past failures. But God redeemed those failures, like Aslan did Edmund's. Aslan called Edmund just. God called me brave. What's He calling you?

Vote affirmative, even if you don't believe it. (Okay, that didn't make any sense, but whatever.)

NITOC This Year

My Facebook feed is crowded today.

I hadn't been on in a few days, mostly because my brother was making last minute rewrites on his OO for NITOC so I couldn't get on. But today I checked my Facebook and scrolled through the feed for a few minutes. And I swear, almost every other post was about NITOC or being in California for NITOC. I would be thrilled to read all these updates about arriving in Cali, being at the beach, and driving through the various states between Texas and CA. I would be thrilled but for one thing: I'm not going.

I qualified for nationals. I received my invitations for duo and TP.  But I'm not going, because my partners aren't going. (Kaleb, Emily: I'm not mad or upset with you guys. You're awesome.) I almost qualified in both DI and OO. Like, seriously. I was one/two spots away from getting another check in both events. So because of those spots, I'm not going to California.

Honestly, I've been looking forward to NITOC since last year's NITOC ended. Getting to spend a week with some of my best friends, debating, speaking, going to the beach. I was excited. And all this year, I've been looking forward to it. I was qualified in two events and I was going to California. I was going to spend the whole week with my friends.

But I'm not going. I'll be here, watching Disney movies and Once Upon a Time and eating ice-cream out of my impromptu trophy. (I would eat it out of my DI trophy, but it's a plaque and that would get messy.)

The worst part is feeling like I was just one place away from going. One rank, and I would be there. Truthfully, I'm disappointed. I would rather go to NITOC, and be in California with my friends. But that's what trust is, right? Believing that even when things don't seem right, God is working for good?

This isn't the first time something like this has happened to me. Last June, I got sick at MPACT and had to go home before I could actually do anything. So I should be used to it, right? (Hahaha NO.)

So I'll sit here and eat Nilla Wafers and cry over Flynn Rider. And hope some good will come out of this. (Besides ice-cream and Frozen.)

So don't stop posting your NITOC updates. I want to see how my friends are doing, how nats are going, and how nice the beach is. Just fill me in on all the inside jokes, okay?

Vote affirmative. It'll make me feel better about not going.

Happy Birthday!

Wait, what?

That's crazy. Impossible. Insane. Ridiculous. Inconceivable.

It's been a year? Yes, that is what it says.

It's been a year.

A year of crazy debate stories, long posts about tournaments, posts about writing, posts about trusting and speaking love, posts about the insanity of CHSADKs, weird spikes in the amount of views I get, amazing people and amazing moments.

Six thousand, one hundred, and sixty two views.

859 views on the post "You Know You're a Christian Homeschooled Speech and Debate Kid When..."

Fifty posts. Four Disney/Debate parodies. Twenty things I love about speech and debate. Kitkats, impromptu, and blogging.

But that's not what matters.

What matters is you.

Yes, you. My wonderful readers.

I couldn't have gotten 6100 views without you. I wouldn't have written fifty blog posts if it weren't for you. I wouldn't have kept going if it weren't for you.

Don't think that your view doesn't affect me. Every view I get makes me smile a little brighter. Every view I get makes me want to keep doing this.

Writing posts, making parodies, drawing stick-figures on paint. You make it all worth it.

Vote affirmative- then, every time you come back to this little blog with a weird name, that's exactly what you do. So, thank you very much.

You Have a Superpower

In a lot of those annoying quizzes that spam my Facebook feed, there's this question that goes: 'which of the following superpowers would you want to have?' Then it has things like flight, invisibility, telepathy, etc. etc. There's one power, however, that they miss.

It's a super power we all have, yet very few people realize it. We use our power every day- often without realizing it. It affects everyone around you, and everyone around you has it. We have access to this power almost all of the time. People everywhere are constantly using it, to bring life, and to bring death. And you and I are no exceptions. What is this superpower, this ability we all have, yet no one seems to know about?

Words.

I know what you're thinking. 'Words aren't a super power. They're just, you know, words.'

But they aren't just words. Proverbs 18:21 says 'the tongue has the power of life and death.' Your words have the ability to give people life and to bring people death. As Adrian Monk would say, 'it's a gift... And a curse.' There are tons of Bible verses talking about the power of words, and I could quote all of them. Here's another:

Proverbs 12:18 - Reckless words pierce like a sword, but the words of the wise bring healing.

We speak hundreds of words every. Single. Day. Every time we open our mouths to say something, we have the power to change people lives. So many people waste this power, talking trash about others, whether it be their friends, their enemies, that celebrity everyone hates so much. Anyone and everyone. So many people waste this power by holding it back, by not speaking up when they need to defend someone else, God, or themselves. Don't be one of those people.

Today I want to show you the two main ways you can use your words.

1. To Bring Death

I once read a book about a girl who heard everything any person anywhere in the world said about her. Praise, criticism, gossip. Everything. (The book is called Claim to Fame, and it's by Margaret Peterson Haddix.) Imagine what that would be like, if you heard everything someone said about you. You'd know if that cute boy at debate club likes you, what the 'cool kids' think about you, and what those blank-faced judges thought of your speech. Now let's switch things around.

Imagine if that girl you called fat in private heard what you said. Imagine if that celebrity heard you call them ugly. Imagine if that one debate team heard you make fun of their case.

Imagine if people heard every word you spoke about them.

 People have hurt you with their words, haven't they? They've said mean, spiteful things, they've gossiped about you, spread rumors about you, and killed you a little inside every time.

And you've hurt people with your words too, right? You've said mean, spiteful things, you gossiped and spread rumors. And each time, you killed them a little inside. We can make excuses for the words we say: I was mad. It was in private. Their case really is crazy. We can make excuses, but they will never excuse the deadly words we speak.

That's a little extreme, right? But it's true all the same. The words we say to someone - anyone - can affect them for years and years- trust me, I know.

We can choose to use our mouths to bring death, no matter who we are or who they are. And this, far too often, is what we (and what I) choose to do. We can be insult someone, criticize something we shouldn't criticize (like their natural hair or eye color.) We can gossip about about them, spread rumors, and say those bitter things. Or we can choose our words in the other way.

2. To Bring Life

Last year, after weeks of building up the courage to do so, I sent an email to a girl named Chandler. I had been reading her hilarious blog, and she had just written a post about not giving up, a thing I am somewhat of an expert on. I had wanted to talk to her before, because I love the blog. I got to watch two of her finals speeches at NITOC (although I hadn't spoken to her. I swear I'm not a stalker), but I couldn't work up the courage to go up to her and fangirl about A. her speeches, and B. her blog.

But I wrote an email to her about a month later, talking about my experience with failure and giving up and not giving up. It was a weird thing for me to do. I'm not really one to comment on blog posts, or email strangers about their amazing writing. It feels awkward, but I wish I would do it more. But I emailed Chandler. And she emailed me back.

I saved the email she wrote back in a Word doc. And I saved the file in Dropbox, because I didn't want to lose the kind words she said to me. (And it's a good thing too, because my laptop is busted. RIP: My Poorly Functioning Laptop.) Here's one of the things she said to me in the email (well, a paragraph of things she said to me):

     "You and I know something your judges don't know. You, Hadley Jones, are a fighter. You're dedicated. You know failure isn't the end. I have no doubts you'll come back next year swinging and ready to hit hard. I don't means in terms of competitive success, because I have no idea what the future holds in that regard. Like I said, I can see speech means a lot to you, and that's why you have to be careful not to let subjective placings define you. Instead, let the fact that you are willing to present your ideas to a panel of strangers and not be intimidated define you. I know you will succeed."

Chandler used her words to speak life to me. Almost a year later, those words still mean so much to me.

You can choose to use your words like Chandler did. I guarantee it'll pay off. It may not benefit you, but to those you speak life to, it's priceless. Don't waste your words on insults and slander. Don't stay quiet when you need to speak love into someone's life. Use this invaluable superpower for good, not evil.

Vote affirmative, but more importantly, speak love and speak life. (And go read the book Speak Love, by Annie F. Downs. It's fantabulous and goes much deeper into this subject.)