The Art of "Bollocks"-Jack Schroeder

“I don’t want to join a forensics club. I’m not a big science guy.”

Don’t quote me on that. I don’t think I actually said it, but it definitely went through my head when I first came to Delbarton School back in seventh grade. After school, I would see students passionately talking to walls that didn’t talk back. I want to say something witty like “I thought the forensic work was so daunting it was making my classmates slowly go insane and hallucinate mythical wall-beings that could respond to their minutes-long monologues,” but the truth is I never really thought about what it was that they did. For the first few months I was there, I had no idea that (1) debate was a part of forensics, (2) so was speech, and (3) joining forensics would change my life for the better.

There was a fourth unknown that deserves recognition. I had no idea what bullsh*t was and how I could stop it. Not that I didn’t know the term. I had heard it before in many contexts. Still, my relationship with the profanity was not actualized. The best comparison I can think of is when you read a word multiple times and consider yourself as having learned it, only to look it up in the dictionary and realize you weren’t entirely correct. This may be true of your relationship with bullsh*t, assuming you’ve never checked the dictionary for it. Following the metaphor, debate was my dictionary. In other words, forensics taught me how to detect bullsh*t.

The philosopher Harry Frankfurt re-published his 1986 essay “On Bullsh*t” in 2005 to great success. I had never heard of it while I debated. My philosophy TF at college recommended it to me, seeing that the topic of bullsh*t piqued my interest. I’m only bringing this up to distinguish between lies and bullsh*t. Liars lie with the belief that they know the truth in order to actively conceal it, Frankfurt argues, while the truth does not matter to bulls*itters. Whether or not they know the truth, they do not presume to have knowledge of it. The result of successful bullsh*ttery is akin to that of entropy: more disorder.

I was a public forum debater for Delbarton. Very early on in my career, I had to learn how to research effectively and create arguments. Perhaps most importantly, as a second speaker, I had to predict other arguments and prepare my counters to them. While this may not come across as a compliment at first glance, debate prepared me for bullsh*t by exposing me to it, both actively and passively. I see why this sounds bad: it gives the impression that debaters willingly bullsh*t and that the activity rewards them for doing so. I would argue the opposite. 

First, “active bullsh*t,” which I believe refers to the competitive action of bullsh*tting in-round. While there are debaters who actively bullsh*t, the activity has built-in mechanisms to decrease its effectiveness. When something sounds like bullsh*t, debaters call for the card to get proper context. In any case, I think it is beneficial for students to be exposed to this active bullsh*t. It teaches critical thinking and healthy skepticism. Evidence that sounds too good to be true probably isn’t. Suave and loquacious speaking should not imply absolute truth. It also teaches restraint. Many debaters will be tempted to bullsh*t when caught off-guard in crossfire, only to dig themselves into insurmountable holes. I believe the more debate is successful at teaching these values, the less active bullsh*t the activity will have to counter. 

Second, and perhaps more ominous, “passive bullsh*t,” which I define as falling victim to an author’s bullsh*t, usually unknowingly. What makes debate intellectually stimulating for me is its duality. Every argument has its real flaws, every card a true response. But some cards have a loose association with the truth. Their authors bullsh*t, but debaters take it as gospel. At its worst, an argument is comprised not of what is true but rather what can be “proven.” It is this bullsh*t that redeems any negative aspects of active bullsh*t. Having knowledge that the real world is comprised of people who also have the temptation to bullsh*t is essential for navigating the information landscape. It encourages you to question. Learning that the truth can be gray instead of black or white teaches you how to see gray.

At its core, bullsh*t is why I believe in teachspeech. More than ever, we need to know how to detect bullsh*t. Frankfurt observed back in 1986 that while people believe there is relatively more bullsh*t than there was earlier, the proportion of bullsh*t may well be constant, while communication itself grows exponentially. Thirty-two years later, his words sound prescient. Even if the share of bullsh*t in politics, business, culture, and life is steady, the gross amount of bullsh*t is orders of magnitude greater than when Frankfurt first put pen to paper. Teaching public speaking and the values of speech and debate will demonstrate to students just how easy it is to bullsh*t in 2018. However, those same values will foster their abilities to detect and combat bullsh*t just as easily.

Part of me wants to conclude this piece by hearkening to my current school’s motto, which translates to “truth,” but debate brings me back to my roots. The weekly forensics bulletins at Delbarton always quoted Seneca on the masthead: “The language of truth is simple.” I have every reason to believe that teachspeech will continue to champion it.

The Fruits of Following Through-Thomas Szymanski

To be perfectly honest, I joined my debate team so that my history teacher, who was a coach of the team, would like me better. Who in the right mind would spend their weekends at a high school arguing? My plan was to quit right after freshman year and leave the activity for good.

Before my escape, my partner and I qualified for the novice state tournament by placing 6th out of 8 teams at a local tournament. While we never had a winning record, there was something else about debate that was addicting. Maybe it was the distraction from school work, or the opportunity to hang out with my friends outside of the classroom. For whatever reason, I decided to cancel my plans of quitting and give debate another shot.

Returning to debate was probably the best decision I’ve made in high school. I arguably peaked sophomore year; winning a semis bid tournament, the state tournament, and qualifying to nationals are all accomplishments I have yet to repeat. My career has plateaued, stuck in a cycle of octos bid after octos bid. I’ve never believed anyone who told me “it's not about winning.” We all do this activity to win and succeed, and anybody who says otherwise probably loses a lot. But looking back at these last four years, from my 6th place certificate to where I am today, I’ve realized that there are so many other things this activity provides than just trophies.

The kids that claim to be in speech and debate for college (avoid these kids like the plague) never fully understand how this activity can change your life. Public speaking still gives me anxiety, but for someone who could barely order at a restaurant without stumbling over his words, the change in confidence is extraordinary. Now, walking into an outround in front of dozens of people is like a walk in the park.

I’ve learned to think outside the box. Debate pushes me to find unique arguments, different ways to solve problems, and to be more creative. The hours I’ve poured into research and case writing greatly outnumber any class I’ve ever been in. I owe my above-average research skills to debate, which have helped me both in and out of the classroom.

Most importantly, the speech and debate community has given me friends that I would’ve never met otherwise. The group of people that choose to be a part of the forensics circle are supportive, caring, and brilliant. Almost every time I’ve needed a flow or a card, one of my friends is there to help. It shows that this activity is not all about winning, but also involves sportsmanship and camaraderie. Many of my best highschool memories are from traveling and being with my team at tournaments.

I want to stop answering the question “what even is speech and debate?” Everyone should have the opportunity to participate in speech and debate, and enjoy the same experiences as I have. I have complete confidence that teachspeech will accomplish this goal. I’m going to cherish every moment of my last few months in my favorite activity.

Thought Bubble: The Importance of hOOnesty: Authenticity in Oratory

With a few notable competitive exceptions, Oratory has never been my event. Quite frankly, I got sick of solving the world’s problems in a ten minute speech (I was used to solving them in seven minutes). Oratory felt shallow and cliché as I was forced into a set structure, tone, and the inevitable fabrication of my sob stories. Ultimately, as I sat in more oratory rounds and bickered with my coach to leave the event, I understood my largest issue with Oratory was authenticity. From the first speech that involved a sob story about a speaker’s terminal battle with swine flu to speeches at the national level that have profited off of lies, Original Oratory has become original hyperbole and original fiction. While these speeches succeed and garner attention, our speech community has to ask serious questions about the integrity of the event. How can Original Oratory be regarded credibly without standards for authenticity?

As a competitor and observer of the speech world, I understand the temptation of lying about Oratory. Who will check? Who really cares? The issue is that the small misrepresentations in Oratory sob stories sanctions larger amounts of academic dishonesty across the community. While it may be anecdotal, the perfect example of this is Congressional Debate. At local tournaments in the tristate area, it’s an open secret that judges will conveniently buy any piece of evidence. Whether you cite the New York Times or Brookings, the judges will comment “nice sourcing” on your card that states ISIS is actually a North Korean conspiracy. As coaches become dissatisfied with the rampant dishonesty of Congress (both inside the beltway and out), they corral their competitors into the Extemp Prep Room. Fittingly, a Congress Debater who has competed in an environment that gives no credence to sourcing tries to repeat the same behaviors in Extemporaneous Speaking. Thus, the source check was created to prevent dishonesty, which has become a fairly efficient tool. In oratory, no one will source check sentimentality or the subsequent sources. As younger orators who inevitably will find roadblocks in their research and writing process see lying as the way out, we’re creating a culture of lying that will carry them beyond speech.

Just like an Oratory, the solutions section is incredibly difficult to implement. With an incredibly diverse and autonomous community, the ultimate answer is self-policing. Extemporaneous Speaking and district tournaments in Oratory force students to have correct citations and quotations. Still, there’s a reason why tab challenges exist: these systems can’t check everyone. Oratory, like Extemp, should employ a centralized system of sourcing, where competitors cannot compete unless their sources are verified. Here, those who may not see success will still encounter honest sourcing and unlike previous Nationals gaffes, those who want to cheat will face real consequences. With two years left in this activity, I have many Oratory rounds ahead of me. I just hope I won’t hear the plot of Ace Ventura: Kid Detective, Steel Magnolias, or Fast & Furious as other competitors’ sob stories. Both inside and out of the round, it’s better to be hOOnest.

More than Just a High Schooler-Katie McKenzie

When I started high school, I didn’t really have any friends that carried over from middle school. So, I got involved in as many clubs as possible. Granted, this meant that I unintentionally threw myself into a lot of awkward situations in the name of being included.  The most prominent example of this was when I went to my first speech and debate meeting.  At no other point in my life have I fit the image of a confused freshman so well. Many of the freshman there were in the Speech and debate class. I had never envied those people more in my life.  At that first meeting, they knew what was going on, and they were already on their way to prepping performances and everything.  Meanwhile, I had absolutely no idea what was going on. I had never really heard about what speech and debate was. The coach at the time said if I thought I might be interested in debate, I should go to this room where the captain of the debate team would be explaining things. Well, I was in for a surprise because the captain, and only debater on the team, was a sophomore who was barely out of his novice year. This made for a beautifully cringeworthy freshman speech year especially since I wasn’t going to back down after I had already shown interest in the activity. 

So, the stage is set for me to make an utter fool of myself, and oh did I. The coach wasn’t super focused on debate, so it was essentially four kids ranging from freshman to sophomore trying to figure things out. And while this may seem critical of my first coach, I am grateful to the hilarity that was my novice year. I have a bond with those other debaters that few could understand or match. After a few tournaments of looking silly but having fun, my school brought in a former debater who helped us make leaps and bounds. Midway through the year though, my team got a new coach who literally changed the game for me. He agreed when I suggested trying extemporaneous speaking in an effort to improve my rebuttals in debate.  Now, in hindsight, very few people can get away with casually doing extemp… Yet, to the surprise of my teammates, I fell in love and never turned back.  I loved learning about the political world I lived in.  I especially was a sponge to water with regards to the international sphere. My coach even fed my nerdiness with some of the best publication subscriptions. My success grew exponentially and I was having more fun than I ever had. 

Although I was well known on the local circuit, I did not start pushing to be a national presence until my senior year.  Even then, I never got close to how amazing many of the other teachspeech directors are.  And although that is a bummer in its own way, I’m ok with it. Few things will ever top the rush I get when I speak, it didn’t matter if it was a preliminary round in Louisiana, or a National Semi-final in Kentucky. I just liked to speak, awards and trophies were just icing on the cake for me.  Not to mention, I was part of my team when we were rebuilding up to the standards of a previous era.  It was a small team and there were never more than two extmpers on the team at a time.  It wasn’t really in the cards for me to be the best of the best, but my life and my friend’s lives were changed all the same. 

In my opinion, the best part of speech is learning about one’s capability to change their surroundings.  No matter what event I did, I had the capability to change a room’s perception of whatever I was talking about.  That is some serious power for one high school student to possess. Everyone cares about something, and Speech and debate provides the avenue to give that subject exposure.  Nowadays, people get stuck shouting into the void that is social media, but in speech, the student is able to make a real connection with the people in that room.  Once I learned about this possibility, I tried my best to spread knowledge of this awesomeness everywhere I went. 

My sophomore year, I became a part of the leadership structure on my team, and I’d like to think that I helped grow our numbers.  Whenever someone asked me, I could sing the praises of speech for days on end.  Yet, I think the best encouragement I could ever give was not spoken.  I was just a nerdy kid walking around with boxes of news publications in an ill-fitting suit.  However, my persona exuded the confidence and intelligence that I was gaining from the activity.  By the time I was the captain of my team senior year, I hadn’t really changed much.  My suits looked better, but I was still having as much fun as always, and people saw that. I was my school’s poster-child for finding your niche. 

Looking back on my time in speech and debate, I know the activity isn’t necessarily for everyone.  Still, I tell everyone to try it just once.  Not only does it teach students how to create an effective argument and statement, but it also teaches these students that the world is their message’s oyster.  Even if I had never won a single tournament in my whole career, I wouldn’t trade it for anything because I was able to see people’s perceptions of the world change based off the words coming out of my mouth.  A lot of kids are told the whole tale about how they can change the world.  Yet, I never really believed it until I had speech to prove to me that I actually had power in my voice and the words it projected. My speech career had the possibility to be a train wreck.  Instead, I learned that I can impact and improve people’s lives.  Now, I want to be a biomedical engineer so that I can put actions to my words.  I never would’ve had the confidence to have such a daring major without Speech and Debate. 

The Ultimate Speech Trophy-Connor Rothschild

I joined speech and debate by accident. It was my freshman year of high school and I, like most other freshmen, had signed up for Introduction to Speech. Unfortunately, the class was full, and so I was instead placed in the next best option: Advanced Debate. It was initially very daunting. My team was small, and there were few freshmen (and none of those freshmen were on the team by accident). The stress that came with this unfamiliar environment continued into my first demoralizing, trophyless debate tournament. I recall the beautiful visual of me ugly-crying in my dad’s minivan in a nearby Steak and Shake parking lot after the tournament.

After a few more trophyless tournaments and numerous one-on-one sessions with my coach, I began to learn how to more effectively communicate—and how to actually do well at tournaments. Spending time training, both with my team and independently, continued for years, culminating in June of 2017, when I became a national champion in International Extemporaneous Speaking at the NSDA national tournament. I now recognize that speech has shown me the importance of perseverance. My hope is that other initially discouraged competitors might see what can happen when you work hard even in the face of defeat. Sometimes, you need the post-tournament Steak and Shake recuperation sessions if you want to have the joy that comes with winning national championships.

Speech has also impacted me in more tangible ways. Through my participation in the activity, I learned the practical and ever-useful skills of research, writing, oral communication, and how to function on four hours of sleep on the weekends.

teachspeech is an organization which has the power to improve every competitors’ experience and involve more people in such a transformative activity.

I joined speech and debate by accident—but hindsight has shown me its immeasurable impact on my communication skills and leadership capabilities. If, during my early years in high school, structured curriculum existed which guided students through effective communication and the formulation of arguments, I imagine my trophyless first debate tournament could have had a different outcome. Teachspeech offers just that. With teachspeech, perhaps more accidental competitors can have a journey similar to mine, and perhaps more students will have the resources necessary to be competitors in the first place.

Further than just improving the experience of current debaters, teachspeech is important because it reaches crowds that would usually never consider speech and debate. This is essential because communication is necessary in contexts broader than just classrooms with three judges. Communication is the medium by which we fight misinformation in a post-truth world, relay facts in an era of alternative ones, and better understand each other in a political climate plagued by polarization.

For those still participating in speech and debate, cherish these moments while they last. Take full advantage of the opportunities for civil discourse, and have conversations about things that matter. Enjoy the relationships you have with the awesome people around you. Have fun. Win lots.

But most importantly, use your voice for advocacy. Support organizations such as teachspeech who work to make the benefits of speech accessible across the country. Use your voice to help others to find theirs.

Thought Bubble: Logging On: A Case for Internet in Extemp

It’s June of 2016 as a freshman Christopher Maximos is having a mental breakdown. Faced with thirteen topic areas, thousands of publications, and no one to help, this seems to be both the plot of a low-budget dramedy and the unfortunate lead up to my freshman NSDA Nationals. For someone who’s crazy about extemp, filing has been the bane of my existence. In my first competitions, I preferred reading a copy of the NYT before the tournament and simply rolling the dice. As I realized, though, that I wanted to be good, not tragic at extemp, filing became my sole activity. I would spend hours a week pouring over articles in which I had little interest in hopes of becoming Ashesh Rambachan 2.0. In this complete swing of the pendulum, I learned no more than when I read two to three articles. Truly, I was Extemp Superman and filing was my Kryptonite.

If you ask twenty extempers on their opinions of filing, you’ll likely get twenty answers. After all, if you attend a behemoth program, filing can be a walk on in the park. On the other hand, if you’re a so-called lone wolf extemper, you’ll be howling for filing help. As extemp has become beholden to sourcing rather than analysis and delivery, filing has built systematic divisions between those who have the luck of competing with top programs and those without resources. To put it bluntly, it’s impossible to file even half of the depth/breadth of a large program as a single extemper. The time between competing, delivering practice speeches, and living in the world outside of extemp (who knew that existed), makes it impossible to fulfill the deficit of single-filing. Similarly, subscriptions are incredibly expensive. For the “big ten” publications alone, one would have to spend upwards of $300 just to remain competitive. This is simply unrealistic, unethical, and unaffordable for small teams. While many on the circuit are able to make filing coalitions, I can attest from personal experience that these are near impossible to keep up. Unlike a team, there’s no infrastructure or incentive system to encourage accountability, as filing without that person will be equally, if not more miserable. 

As you near the third paragraph, you’re probably wondering, is this a rant on the broken state of extemp or a piece that will provide a bright solution? Well, in typical Christopher Maximos style, it’s time to brighten up this maudlin painting of extemp with a substantive solution: the internet (insert jazz hands here). Just as extemp has abandoned tubs, it’s time to abandon wifi-less competition. For small teams and large teams alike, the internet provides the perfect mix of support and competitive motivation. On one hand, those who want to keep their traditions of filing are able to, utilizing the resources of their programs and teammates. On the other hand, those without a team or the resources to afford continued reading can employ the internet as their extemp safety net. Leagues across the country have instituted wifi filing to relative success; tournaments including the extemp pinnacle: MBA have switched to wifi-inclusive competition. As the tides turn locally, it’s time for a national tsunami.

No, internet-based competition is not lazy. The largest issue with internet competition is breaking down stigma from the conventional school of extemp thought. Last year, when I used Extemp Genie (the best invention since sliced bread) as a supplement at NSDA Nationals, I received numerous comments about my “lazy” preparation for extemp. When auto-filing or internet filing properly, one does not go into competition cold. Rather, they read carefully and allow the internet/auto-filer to save and multiply the sources that they already have been briefed on. For a community that’s rife with cheating, internet/auto-filing offers an avenue to promote academic honesty and ensure a better academic-extracurricular balance for stressed speakers. It’s time to understand that extemp should not be a game of resources, but a game of talent and skill. We’ve burned the plastic tubs, and now, we must click our signal buttons back on. Let’s vanquish extemp’s Kryptonite once and for all. 

Thought Bubble: Why Everyone Should Do Interp at Least Once

In the sometimes Wonder Bread World of Speech & Debate, the cotton candy, bubblegum rabbit hole of humorous interpretation always manages to add flavor to tournaments. The strange symphony of accelerated plot lines, perplexing sound effects, and semi-inappropriate jokes can be plenty to process at first, but-just like The Office-easily becomes a crowd favorite over time. While I am a now-confirmed extemp addict, my first tournaments consisted of my own hot mess HI: a ten-minute piece cut from multiple YouTube videos with my attempts at doing exact interpretations. Needless to say, it didn’t go well. In spite of my failure, my love of interp continued to blossom. My PF teammates and I would watch Billy Chengary’s “How To Do Interp” video constantly, I would scrutinize NSDA POIs for binder technique, and I (unsuccessfully) attempted to convince my coach to let me do the Betsy DeVos Confirmation Hearings as an HI. 

Interp for me was an incredibly freeing experience. For a shy ninth grader, the idea of authentically performing in front of others was daunting. Thus, with my HI, I didn’t have to bare my awkward self to the judges; I was Tammy the Half T-Rex or Bubble Boy. Popping and changing my voice allowed me to build a barrier between the performer and the stage. In the process of performing (and accumulating 6’s), however, I learned that these characters magnified my confidence to perform as Christopher Maximos. The script was not just a story, it was my chance to speak confidently and in the case of most interpers, to use comedy or drama to illustrate a message I cared about. As a decorated interp coach once told me, “Sometimes, you have to be someone else to learn more about yourself.” HI or DI or Duo or POI can be a student’s first (and only) opportunity to discover him or herself in speech and debate. 

For the extemper already buried in her Economist, the PFer flipping back to Champion Briefs, and the Orator waiting for the heart moment, do interp! You may have found yourself in this activity already, but interp does have benefits beyond self-discovery. Outside of the acting bubble, Speech & Debate has begun to de-emphasize connecting with the audience and utilizing one’s body purposefully. The only way to attain these skills, though, is to demonstrate their importance, which comes from competing in interp. On the interp ballot, judges view you through a different context, prioritizing the often “forgotten” techniques of gesturing and eye contact. Instead of dismissing these skills as incongruous to your other events, apply them for a competitive and academic advantage. Similarly, the rote nature of any event can be tiresome. While interp should not be viewed as merely a Plan B event, the very nature of speech compels students to explore the terrain outside of their event comfort zone. Double enter in Congress and HI; Extemp and POI; Policy and DI; Be fearless.

Let’s face it: I’m an unapologetic interp addict. The acting, artistry, and characterization of the event absolutely enthralls me. Below the surface, though, the courage of interpers to skirt social norms for a more compelling performance is incredibly admirable. We need to inspire change beyond the classroom for our students, by inspiring change in the classroom first. Coaches, Students, and everyone in between: pick up an interp event. Who knows, you might fall in candy-coated love!

An Informed Identity-Nithya Reddy

I’d like to think that one activity doesn’t define me, but rather my diverse extracurriculars add to my complexity. However, my involvement with the Speech and Debate club in my high school has shaped who I am. When I first entered high school, I lacked self-awareness and self-confidence. It was my mother actually who forced me to join; I needed help with how I interacted with people and public speaking. Being a senior, I cannot recognize the person I used to be because this club has lead to immense personal growth. My success as a leader and speaker is due to four years in Speech and Debate, and now I can see the tangible impact this activity in not only my personality but also my academics. 

More specifically, it was extemporaneous speaking that was the definite beginning of a more politically aware me. My coach first put me in extemp because there were extra spots in DX during my sophomore year districts. When I didn’t drop after the first round, I thought hey, maybe this could be a full time thing. It was definitely inflated confidence, but it was enough to make me pursue extemp my junior year. At first, it was just my speaking that ensured I didn’t get dead last in any round. I didn’t really develop my analytical skills until after a couple of tournaments of consistently ranking in the middle of the room. Obviously I was doing something wrong, but I realized I was missing the structure of extemp entirely. 

One person who was instrumental in this process was a friend of mine, Chris Mayer. He really showed me what it meant to understand the different complexities in foreign hegemony and also domestic affairs. I found my passion in extemp. I knew I loved public speaking, but extemp was a way to extend knowledge and analysis and explore foreign powers in a real way. It gave me access to deeper parts of myself I didn’t know existed in terms of learning. I started using my own structure for extemp speeches, which was basically no structure. I just went up there in front of judges and my peers and talked about what I knew and admittedly “creatively writing” what I didn’t know. I spent all my prep time researching, barely practicing. Whenever I gave an extemp speech, I felt a surge of both excitement and contentment. I feel lucky to have found something that I loved and something that allowed for personal growth. The person I am today is because of this activity. 

Thought Bubble: Circuitization Nation-Christopher Maximos

When I first entered 9th grade, I was dead set on debating Lincoln-Douglass. The image of pontificating about large philosophical ideas was intoxicating. I was definitely going to be the next Immanuel Kant. However, when I observed my first round, I wasn’t sure whether I was having a seizure or if the contestants were speaking in a language of sharp breaths and quick mumbles. Sadly, my LD dream ended as I fell in love with Extemp, an event where I wouldn’t have to develop juvenile asthma. My experience with LD isn’t that foreign; in conversations with other members of the NJ prep room, a common theme is “Yes, I wanted to do [form of debate] but it simply wasn’t applicable to the real world.” While debaters, in LD, Policy, and now PF, continue to speed down the intellectual highway, they’re leaving the rest of us in their dust.

The NSDA’s first debate event was Cross-Examination Debate or Policy. In teams of two, debaters would advocate or negate a resolution that called for a specific policy change by the United States federal government. Ranging from Chinese intervention to education policy, however, the slow, measured rounds of policy have transformed into 200+ word per minute debates that rarely touch the revolution. Besides the national final, it is common for policy debaters to speak only in “flow style” where they’ll use tactics like the Kritik and Counterplan to compete at a level inaccessible to the average listener. The arguments that policy debaters make are incredible, but the often tenuous links between debates about race and US ocean exploration cheapen the value of these conversations. In the context outside of debate, listeners can’t understand or apply these dialogues because they require about four years of debate experience to understand. In the debate community, there’s an equal percentage of people who also believe that these arguments outside of the resolution make the resolution useless. In LD and PF, the race towards incomprehensibility continues as every year, cases become more heavily carded, read at a faster rate, and more inaccessible to the average judge. Debate should be a competition, but it’s not a race to incomprehensibility. After all, what is debate when resolutions have no bearing on cases? What is debate it becomes an insular academic community?

As a speech kid, I’m blessed to have minimal overhead in competition costs. Besides a small budget for fun ties and auto-filers, nearly anyone can compete and be good at a speech event, irrespective of financial means. On the contrary, debate is expensive. Between buying briefs, hiring specialized coaches, and traveling exhaustively across the circuit, it’s difficult for Small High School AB to take on the incredible programs like Glenbrook North and South or Peninsula in Policy; Horace Mann, Nueva, and Poly Prep in PF; Scarsdale, Harrison, or Harvard-Westlake in Lincoln-Douglas. While scholarship programs have attempted to cut the overhead of competing at a championship level, it’s extremely rare to see those in the finals of the TOC who have not been in the top labs at camps, championed round robins across the circuit, and hired a small army of their debate specialty’s greatest intellectuals. While it’s easy to cavil that these students could be equally talented even without resources, it’s hypocritical to ignore the cliquey environment of the forensics world. People complained endlessly about two lay debaters being in the finals of LD this year at NSDA Nationals, one of the only times in recent history that a non-circuit debater had dominated the round. On one hand, debaters in round will read arguments about the classism and inequality present in the United States, yet they gripe when the less privileged few are able to succeed. Success in high school debate shouldn’t center around one’s name or one’s resources, it should focus on talent, hard work, and merit. Debate shouldn’t be about the people debating, it should be about the debate.

Thankfully, I was able to find a style of competitive speaking that fit my personality (and relatively slow processing for speech). However, the hundreds of students who’ve felt alienated from these debate types should not be precluded merely because of their resources or traditional approaches to debate. Forensics should be inclusive for all, not exclusive for few.

Born to Talk to Walls-Ashlyn Jones

I have baby pictures with a black book, so it’d be pretty safe to say that speech is, and has been, a part of my life for as long as I can remember. My mom was a speech coach, and various family members have competed in the activity for years, so I was eager to join the speech community as early as I possibly could. On my first day of sixth grade, I asked a teacher if they’d be willing to sponsor and coach a speech team, explained the benefits of speech on students, and when she agreed, I knew my life was bound to change for the better.

Initially, I began my speech career in every interp event possible. I was excited and passionate about each performance, but always was wanting to experience speech in any way I could, which is what pushed me to pursue public address events, primarily oratory, as well. I wanted to do every speech event I could, knowing that I wouldn’t be great at all of them, but that I would enjoy each event for everything it had to offer. This mindset led me to do an HI about Hillary Clinton my senior year as a way to grieve through satire after the 2016 election. It was what many would call a hot mess, but it was so, so fun.

I wasn’t always excited about all of the events, though. The one event that truly frightened me was extemp. At one tournament my sophomore year of high school, my coach signed me up for extemp, and I was nervous and very unenthusiastic about competing in the event. I don’t remember what my first extemp question was, but I think I might’ve spoken for two minutes at best, in that first round. Surprisingly enough, I ending up breaking to finals at that tournament, which led me to continue competing in extemp for the rest of my high school career. I didn’t enjoy it, and complained about the event more often than necessary, but I found success in extemp, which gave me reasoning to continue the activity. I decided to go to speech camp for extemp the summer before my senior year, and that’s when everything changed for me. I began to grow excited about different questions in rounds, thinking of the event as a puzzle to piece together. Extemp grew to be my favorite event, and in hindsight, I am so thankful to have been pushed to compete in extemp my sophomore year.

Competing in speech and debate, my weekends were surrounded by high-achieving students who in turn, were pursuing high profile universities. I knew, though, that I didn’t want speech to end after high school. I applied for Western Kentucky University’s forensics team, and I couldn’t be happier. This community is unlike any other, and it teaches students that their voices truly do matter. I am so lucky to be a part of this community, and it is so wonderful to see how speech develops students into outspoken advocates in such a short period of time.

I had a coach once tell me, “Speech demands that our hearts break, but it also teaches us how to repair it.” Despite endless weekends of competition, countless hours dedicated to practices, and the questioning of life choices on why we spend so many years talking to an audience, but we do speech because we love it. At the end of each tournament, with such a focus on competitive success, only one person will truly be happy. Our hearts inevitably will break throughout speech; you’ll likely experience heartbreak multiple times, even. The incredible thing about speech, though, is that it continues to mend our broken hearts and fill us with a love incomparable to anything else. Speech grants you a family that will accept you with open arms, regardless of where you came from. Speech presents you with opportunities to expand your future and with memories that will last a lifetime.

Whether this is your first year in speech and debate, or if your competitive career is nearing an end, I think my advice for you can be relatively universal. First, stick with this activity. Try every event possible. There might be some events you love that you never would have expected to, and there may be other events you find yourself succeeding in more than you could’ve imagined. I still continue to try new events, and I’m learning LD Debate as a college student. Not only will trying various things give you a new appreciation for the event, but it’ll likely introduce you to an event you love and wouldn’t have tried otherwise. Beyond the obvious competitive aspects of speech, though, sticking with the activity is crucial to truly experience it. Speech may not be for everyone, but I urge you to keep working, and remember why you wanted to join a speech team in the first place. Tournaments, teams, and pieces may change, but the community doesn’t.

We live in a world where our voices, ideas, and opinions matter. What better way to advocate for change and come together to share ideas, than at tournaments and within the speech world? This activity is not just defined by the events, teams, suits, or tournaments: it’s defined by the love students have for it. Speech and debate really transforms the world we live in. Or at the very least, it can teach you that your voice matters and inspire you to make changes for the better. Stick with this activity. Remember what made you want to do this in the first place. I promise you, once it is over, you will miss it.

A Very Un-Flaky Forensics Career

As a Hindu girl in a Catholic school in L.A., I couldn’t help but question if my constant
bad luck was due to my belief in Hinduism. Every year, I faced disappointment when my
Spanish teacher would distribute bread on RoscaDeReyes and my roll was never the one with the sacred, baby Jesus figurine. I would try a different flavoured bread every year; I was never the one. In kindergarten, I chose the white loaf and dove into the passion to swim, but when that didn’t work out, a year later, I chose the sweet bread as I graced (correction: scarred) the tennis courts. When my attempts at hitting the ball across the net failed, I turned to brown bread as my forced piano lessons kicked into play. My success in bread-choosing correlated with my passion searches- all failures. Soon, religion was no longer a subject which was taught in my new school in Florida. The dream of ever achieving the figurine of the baby Jesus was unattainable- or so I thought.

My life pivoted as early as fourth grade when I was recruited by the Forensics Club. From interpretation to debating events, this was my true calling- my holy bread. From fourth
grade to now, there has been nothing more enjoyable to me than waking up at 5 A.M to kick on
some pantyhoes and a Hillary suit to attend a local, run-down high school or prestigious
university for a Speech and Debate tournament-- no sarcasm intended. Throughout High School, Speech and Debate has been channelled through just about every aspect of life. Through school, my speech skills aided my articulation skills from essays to presentations. Through Forensics, I was offered my first job- coaching middle school incomers with Champion Briefs Institute, fostering students to build their skills like I did with the support of my team-- my second family-- and coaches. More than anything, competing in Original Oratory has given me the opportunity to speak in front of rooms and auditoriums full of people-friends and strangers- to spread messages that are bigger than you or me and which have the scope to impact lives on a monumental scale. My trial and error passion hunt was well worth my
struggles.

In an activity that demands traveling nationwide almost every weekend, I cultivated
friendships from California to the Carolinas and have been blessed to have seen so much of
America—from wild horses in Kentucky to the Chicago Bean. But what keeps the Speech
community so bound together is beyond these excursions. It’s the degree of respect that speakers from a vast array of backgrounds learn to treat one another with. Having watched each other grow from novices who just loved dressing up in suits every Saturday to young adults who take pride in the gravitas of our messages, we speakers develop a sense of compassion for all, regardless of skill or heritage.

Despite multiple absences a month, I aimed to maintain a good GPA and keep up with my schoolwork. At first, it was hard- even torturous. Sleepless nights led me to consider quitting my passion until I quickly turned around and thought, ‘Wait up. Who am I kidding?’ I had always occupied myself in chasing the “future”- my holy bread- but often forgot to live in the moment until now. I had finally found that baby Jesus, which I waited for practically my whole life; giving it up would have been surrendering life, so I took a risk, knowing that it was one worth taking. I stuck with speech for all four years of high school. Every word, life I touched and hand gesture was worth it. No regrets. Time management became something that I am proud to be adept in. Forensics indirectly gave me vast amounts of knowledge on how to balance priorities, time manage, and succeed as a student as well as the second best orator in the nation.

Let’s be honest. How often does the average Joe, or Jane of course, get the opportunity to
stand in front of a room full of people who have no other purpose than to listen to them spread a meaningful message of their choice to anyone they want. I have been fortunate enough to do it hundreds of times over the last 8 and a half years. This is my greatest wealth that no one can buy off of me. I have learned that the activity is not about the trophy at the end of it- but about using my voice to make real change.

Guided by my peers, parents, and coaches, I stood proudly as a Harvard and Bronx and
Blue Key finalist, but woefully watched as many public schools dissolved Forensics programs.
As a proud Tulane student, I continue pray for every student to develop the life skills Forensics
has to offer. As I judge novices at tournaments and mentor young debaters, I count my blessings that allow me to experience the greatest culture my Speech family and I have ever known. Always Fight For Forensics.

Beyond the LD Case-Amy Pu

Growing up in suburban New Jersey, I considered myself privileged. I attended a high school jam packed with resources; my parents worked stable full time jobs, and they provided me with a roof over my head, food at the dinner table, and clothes to keep me warm in the winter. When I joined debate, I joined for the same reason many other ambitious students with Asian tiger moms did: college. This academic team constituted my futile effort in making up for a lack of an athletic sport. Who knew I would end up accidentally falling in love. I really did – even up until this day, I truly enjoy the act of debating. I love logic, picking out warrants, appealing to the judge – and more than anything, I love that debate forced me to think. Debate was fun, as it should be. 

Yet sometimes, I now wonder: if I knew what I know now, would I have joined the debate team at Randolph? 

Let me set the scene: going into my senior year, I was the single varsity Lincoln Douglas debater on my team. I traveled alone to tournaments, paid for my flights and lodging independently, dragged my dad from work every weekend to judge for me, and forced myself to seek out friends on the circuit. I took on a part time job as a waitress at a local pizzeria to pay for finance expenses, going to extreme means to convince my parents the costs of debate were worth it. At tournaments, I felt strongly excluded from the majority of teams with bountiful of students, each helping each other prep and scout rounds. Many times at tournaments, I found myself awkwardly walking in circles, pretending I was on my cell phone, when in truth, I was just unsure of who to talk to. You have probably never heard of Randolph AP. I wasn’t particularly successful, breaking somewhat consistently my senior year, but not reaching a level that I had wanted. 

More often than not, I think we address the benefits, the positives, and successes of debate. I agree: debate helps students develop top level critical thinking skills, persuasive speaking fluency, and educates students on topics ranging from current news to deep philosophy. However, even when we do confront issues within the activity head on, we tend to do so circumspectly, tiptoeing around issues by using buzzwords, engaging in a form of slacktivism. It’s necessary that we just come to terms with the truth: competitive debate is a violent space. The prevailing debate culture consists of each-man-for-themselves, a culture where elitism is consistently rewarded and supported, where cliques are formed and borders are stuck. 

I can clearly remember the watershed round which made me aware of how dangerous debate could be: in my sophomore year - I faced a boy from a well-known school, who had a reputation as an upcoming star debater with a bid already under his belt, and he invited a few of his friends from other schools to watch in the back of the room without asking for my permission. Already shaking from nervousness, I crumbled under the pressure and stuttered, speaking unclearly and unable to articulate many of my arguments. And every time I made a faulty argument, his friends in the back laughed at me. Why didn’t I just call them out and ask them to leave? It wasn’t possible – I was frozen in the activity. I felt weak, outnumbered. I was worried they would be angry at me for asking them to leave, for calling them out. I didn’t want to make a scene.

Too many times I found myself at the edge of the activity, one step away from walking out. Too many times I found myself crying, not over the losses, but from the impacts on my psychological health. Too many times I have witnessed my friends work all-nighters, cutting prep and doing drills, only to lose on nuances caused by stress. The debate circuit is not only unwelcome to debaters who are “not good” – the jealousy, the condescension, the active exclusion is more than enough to push a newcomer from leaving. 

I felt alone. 

Why then, do I still put so much time in an activity that made me feel so weak? 

I found people. People in the activity who gave me reasons to stay, people in the activity who provided me with enough love and support that at times, I forgot I was a lone debater, people who I eventually talked to during the time I used to spend walking in circles, people who went to my out rounds and treated me as their own team member. Like a lost puppy, I was taken into Stuyvesant’s home; it is an undeniable truth that had I not found such people, I would not be writing this today. A simple invite to dinner at a noodle restaurant is enough to keep a lone debater in the activity. I should note here that my coach coached me out of pure kindness and demanded no pay. For that, I am truly forever grateful. As violent, damaging, and unfair competitive debate can be, debate can also be healing, unifying, surprising, and filled with pure and genuine compassion. 

I know there are other debaters out there with experiences similar to mine. There are other debaters who had to fight just to attend tournaments, who had to go to out rounds themselves with their opponent’s teams sitting in the back of the room, who had to convince their coach that debating is something even worth doing. The inequality within the activity – from being able to afford camp to afford travel to just be strong enough to engage with others – is too great; it’s a problem I can’t just leave behind. 

My greatest takeaway has been an understanding of the real world – a more realistic, though pessimistic, outlook. I am privileged, but even I have experienced how much inequality can greatly impact one’s health and success. Today, I want nothing more than to pass on what I’ve learned. In the same way the round I experienced sophomore year changed my opinion, my experience with my private coach, who provided me with unconditional support and encouragement, gave me hope and a new perspective. I have a genuine passion in helping underfunded, small school debaters reach their full capabilities; it is so absolutely significant that students with potential are able to succeed. My hope is that one day, I can reach out to as many underprivileged students as possible. 

Blooming his Forensics Flower-Bradley Wascher

Unlike most people who are ride-or-die for this activity, I started speech and debate relatively late in my high school career: the middle of sophomore year, to be exact. Despite being a late bloomer (or late speaker, I suppose), I quickly fell in love with forensics and found my niche in extemporaneous speaking.

When I first started competing, it was a rough time to be Bradley Wascher. The first extemp I ever gave was on the question “Will the US have another government shutdown?”, and my initial reaction was, “Wait, the government can shut down?!” After a three-and-a-half minute mess that began with a comparison of Congress to Mean Girls and ended with an apology to my judge, I walked out of the room absolutely confused and defeated.

To be honest, if I was participating in any other extracurricular, I likely would have just given up after that tragic first tournament. Yet, for some reason, forensics was different. Each extemp milestone I reached – hitting seven minutes, including the correct number of citations, making my jokes land – motivated me to work harder and dream bigger. Eventually, what started out as “Oh, I guess I’ll do this because whatever” became “Holy cow, this is actually the coolest thing ever.” The rest, as they say, was history.

The next two years of high school were a prep-induced blur. After traveling to as many competitions as I could, I began to find my way in the activity. Yet, I didn’t fully understand how it was changing my life until it came time to apply to college. While most of my friends were preparing to either go to state schools or top-tier universities, I realized that I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to forensics just yet. So, I applied to Western Kentucky University (a strange choice for an Alabama native) and joined their collegiate speech and debate team. I’m currently in my sophomore year, and I couldn’t be happier.

Sure, to some participants, speech and debate can function as a fun pastime, or a way to make yourself more appealing to big-shot colleges. For most, however, the activity provides a developmental outlet like no other. When I stumbled into my forensics coach’s office, I was an awkward kid who thought he knew more about the world than he actually did. When I walked out two-and-a-half years later (metaphorically; I promise I didn’t actually spend 30 consecutive months there), I was more articulate, poised, and mature than 10thgrade Bradley could ever have imagined.

Indeed, competing in forensics allowed me, and many others, to hone crucial life skills. Speech and debate has encouraged me to defend my beliefs, taught me to express my thoughts, and given me the research tools necessary to succeed both in-round and in the classroom. As cliché as it may sound, this activity truly has made me a better version of myself, and the same is true for the hundreds of thousands of students who have participated.

Because of where I chose to go to college, I’m fortunate enough to still be competing in speech and debate. That being said, I still want to impart nuggets of advice to whomever read this far:

For everyone who has hung up their suits and put away their legal pads, I hope you cherished every minute of your time in speech and debate.

For those who are still competing, be sure to thank your coaches and hold onto the little things. Waking up at 6:00 AM on a Saturday may seem awful now, but you’re going to miss it when you’re done. Just believe me on this one.

For administrators who are curious about the value of this activity, wonder no more – forensics is invaluable, and that’s a fact that can’t be debated.

Finding Prosperity in the Prep Room-Kevin Marien

As I walked the streets of my college the other day, I realized that this is not where I expected to be. I’m not sure exactly where I thought I would be, but it wasn’t Indiana, and it certainly wasn’t somewhere where the temperature would reach above 90 degrees in late September. Halfway along the mile-long walk, I started to reminisce about the friends I left behind in the tristate area and the memories we had. One memory in particular stood out. It was districts junior year, and several New Jersey extempers were gathered around a table. We started talking and in the middle of the conversation, I got a message from an interp friend. She sent me a link to a series of what can only be described as extemp erotica – which, of course, we then proceeded to read out loud in the prep room. Our brief stint as interpers, performing the harrowing tales contained in “XXXtemporaneous Speaking,” so masterfully penned by mynameisnoodles on Deviantart, still brings a smile to my face as I write this. It’s an odd memory, but emblematic of something important that forensics taught me: even in the tensest of moments, the middle of districts, it’s possible to find the humor in life. These kinds of grand life lessons, the kinds you hear espoused by relatable, comedy relief side characters and fortune cookies alike, are really the ones that stick with you most from forensics. Warmups teach you not to take life too seriously, awards (or lack thereof) teach you humility, and the largely subpar food teaches you to eat a large breakfast. But there was one lesson that always stood out to me: despite this being an activity where you put yourself in front of others to be judged, it’s not your accolades that define you, it’s your personal growth.

When I first joined freshman year, I wasn’t expecting forensics to take me on such a wild ride. At the onset, I had no clue how to tie a tie or how to construct an argument, but by the end of my speech and debate career I was making it to national tournament outrounds in extemp. I joined as a timid freshman who was afraid to even participate in class, and frankly after one year of debate I was ready to quit. I believe the inner masochist in me, who has never lead me astray, urged me to keep going, to keep waking up at 5 AM to needlessly suffer at the hands of random moms. So when sophomore year rolled around, I decided to try my hand at extemporaneous speaking against my better judgement. And then something weird started happening. At my third tournament, I broke in extemp. I was flabbergasted and had no idea how or why I was going into a final round and giving speeches alongside people who were national finalists. Needless to say, I was nowhere near the level of proficiency of the upperclassmen who were breaking to finals, and the best I ever did my sophomore year was fifth place.

But fifth place was more than enough for me. What that trophy represented wasn’t merely that I did well on some Saturday in some random school in New Jersey, it was that I was growing, and I was growing in a place where I felt accepted. No matter what issues I had in school, at home, or anywhere else, when I put on my suit and read my topic aloud to the judge, all my problems melted away and everything just clicked. Forensics was somewhere I could go to feel welcomed and loved. It gave me a second family, a second home. And I know I’m not alone. For thousands of kids across the nation, their local speech and debate teams give them a refuge from the daily struggles of being a pubescent teenager, as trivial as those struggles may be in the grand scheme of things. But that positive environment that forensics fosters naturally in every school is key to allowing students to realize their full potential. Public speaking is an invaluable skill, and the secondary and tertiary skills required to be successful in different events, like forming a cohesive argument and learning how to advocate for a cause, are the kinds of things we should be teaching students in our schools but aren’t.

Those abilities, however, are only helpful if you understand when and how to use them best, and that’s where the real impact of forensics lies. It provides a platform on which you can constantly test and fine tune your newly learned skills every week. At first, you obsess over how you can be better than everyone else, what makes them so good and how you can try to be like them. But eventually, you realize that your successes aren’t measured by other peoples’ bad days or off speeches, by trophies and medals and praise; they’re measured by your own improvement. They’re measured by looking back on where you started and seeing how far you’ve come. Sometimes it’s difficult to not mistake the forest for the trees, to believe that your success does depend on your placement. When I failed to semifinal at the Yale invitational my senior year, only making it as far as I had the year prior, I felt as though I simply wasn’t good enough. But in reality, as all students come to understand, forensics is an activity focused on self-betterment more than anything else. I realized that the speeches I gave my senior year were leaps and bounds above the ones I gave junior year and although it took some time, I came to understand that I did better personally, and that’s what ultimately matters. Speech and debate is an activity that forces you to be comfortable in your own skin and with how well (or not well) you do.

This was doubly true for me, as it was and is for many other students. I was not only an extemper, but president of my club, and that brought with it a slew of responsibilities. I spent countless nights forgoing practice to work out some problem that arose out of nowhere or scheduling national tournament itineraries. Of course, I had help from the rest of the board of our club and our teacher advisors, but I preferred to be as involved as possible. This too served as a teaching experience on personal growth. When I entered high school, I was naïve and unsure of myself. Truthfully, I was still naïve and unsure of myself when I was elected president, but my first month on the job was tumultuous enough that it woke me up to the real problems we had in our club and made me realize I could no longer be the optimistic child I once was. In many ways, forensics made me realize many of the difficulties in governing and in following what you feel is the correct path.

By the time my tenure was over both as an extemper and as president, I understood more fully the complexities in life. I walked away wiser and more wholesome than I was when I had entered, and by the end of my speech career, that was the personal growth I was looking for. It was apparent to me that everyone should have the same opportunities that I and many of my friends were given. Speech and debate changed my life forever, and I can only hope that one day I will be able to touch the lives of others the way this club has mine. I’m still deeply saddened that my years of forensics are over, but I suppose that’s speech and debate’s final lesson: how to let go and move on.

Lessons Learned and Confidence Earned-Shefali Das

10 Things I learned from Speech and Debate:

1. Running in heels is a varsity sport. 

2. Suit shopping is a cathartic experience.

3. Oratory hands don’t just apply to oratory - they stick with you for the rest of your life. 

4. The same applies for puns! And speech hair!

5. Self-confidence is not determined by an off-on switch. It takes time, and isn’t a constant either. 

6. It’s okay to have an off day. Or an off season. 

7. The trophies, ballots and rankings don’t matter. What sticks with you is how you’ve grown as a person. 

8. You are never too anything (old/young/etc.) to share your opinions and values. Your input matters, always. 

9. Never be afraid to admit ignorance. Ignorance and stupidity are not the same, and you should always ask that extra clarifying question.

10. Never be a bystander - you're in speech and debate to use your voice for those who can’t. If you see something, say something - whether it be in school or in the world, never be afraid to tell it how it is. Do something about it. Your decision to be a speaker gives you the responsibility of action.

To be honest, when I was asked to write this blog post, I was absolutely honored. And scared. (Mostly scared). How was I supposed to put the best seven years of my life into a six to nine paragraph account? It’s ironic, isn’t it? I spent years of my life laying out my most complex thoughts into carefully written speeches, but when I’m asked to describe what that experience means to me, I come up completely speechless. The best way I can describe how I feel when I hear the word “Forensics” is genuine happiness. I smile just thinking about the memories, the people, and the pieces. I miss it - I truly do. This weekend, my favorite people competed at the Yale Invitational Tournament, and I realized how much I missed suiting up. I coach now, and oftentimes, people ask me how I got involved in Forensics in the first place. Let’s start at the very beginning:

Timid and shy, that’s how I entered Randolph Middle School in sixth grade. At first, I honestly debated (like I said, the puns never quite leave you) whether or not to join forensics, seeing as public speaking was the last thing a quiet eleven year old wanted to get herself involved in. My parents thought it would be a good way for me to open up, and convinced me to attend one meeting. If I didn’t like it, I’d find something else. When I went to my first meeting, I sat in the very back corner, behind a stack of over-filled backpacks, and watched in awe as the high school team performed for us. I was absolutely shocked - how was it possible that someone just a few years older than me could have so much confidence, to be that comfortable in front of so many discerning eyes? I decided that I would stick with it - at least for a little while - thinking that the supportive, judgement-free environment might help me come out of my shell. Little did I know the depth of the impact forensics would have on me, in every aspect of my life.

Speech quickly became one of my favorite creative outlets. I looked forward to suiting up every Saturday and spending hours with my closest friends, sharing ideas and articulating our thoughts. Through forensics, I learned that no loss is truly a loss - every experience, every interaction and every relationship built me to become the person I am today. I learned to stand up for what I believe in, and never let stereotypes get in the way of who I want to be. 

Perhaps the most incredible thing about speech and debate, however, is how it translated into other aspects of my life. Because of the skills I developed in forensics, I was able to present my own original research at an international scientific conference in Milan, Italy at the age of 16. I was able to sing the National Anthem at freshmen convocation in front of 10,000 of my new classmates at UC Berkeley this semester. I am able to start and hold conversations with anybody about almost any topic. I am able to appreciate and learn from different points of view. 

Something as seemingly simple as joining a club in middle school translated into life changing experiences and a new world view. 

Forensics is more than a competition. While we’re waking up at 6AM, suiting up, warming up, competing, reading ballots and improving, something bigger is happening behind the scenes. We are becoming better people - every speech, every intro, every round, every ballot makes us better listeners, deeper thinkers, and more active citizens. 

I’ll admit - there were times when I wanted to quit. There were times when I thought, “Anything would be better than waking up before the sun, spending hours upon hours in school, when I could be asleep or literally anywhere else”. There were tournaments and weeks and even seasons that I did not break, times that I thought that I wasn’t cut out for it. But every single time I felt this way, I was reminded of how much forensics was changing me for the better. My team - my family - reminded me of how important my involvement in speech and debate was to me. 

Forensics has had a tremendous influence in my life, and has undoubtedly been the most incredible experience I’ve ever had. When I look back at these seven years, I won’t remember the ranks, medals, trophies or ballots. I will remember the long bus rides, crazy warmups, sprinting in heels to get to rounds, and the memories, speeches, and people who made me who I am today. 

Fear Becomes Fortitude-Amy Sukserm

If you had asked me a few years ago if I would ever willingly go up in front of 200-seater auditorium halls full of unfamiliar faces while speaking on the power in powerlessness paradox, being an old Korean woman making Kimchi, or pretending to cut my own umbilical cord while giving birth in a White Castle, I would’ve laughed because public speaking is something that satan created out of the pits of hell. Little did I know that my biggest fear and thing that I abhorred most in this world would eventually become the haven of my most treasured memories, skill sets, and friendships.

People always ask me how or why I got into speech and debate, so here it is:

It was in the 8th grade and my Civics teacher gave us this huge presentation to do where we had to speak for 25 minutes about a topic of our own choosing. I talked about the FBI. Don’t really know why. Didn’t really care for it. But anyway, I was so scared about giving my presentation because I had only written 2-3 bullet points on each notecard and I ran out of notecards so I only had like five of them. During the presentation, my glasses were fogging up because I was so nervous, my hands were shaking, my voice was cracking, and there were a lot… A. LOT. of awkward pauses. All in all, my presentation ended up running 17 minutes and completely went up in flames.

But not to worry, there’s a bright side to this.

Later that year, the Trinity Prep forensics team came into our Civics class trying to recruit new members for the upcoming season. They brought in giant trophies, talked about the countless travel opportunities, and the valuable professional and life skills we would gain out of the activity. I was pretty interested.

“But you suck at public speaking,” I thought to myself.

True. But then I internally slapped myself in the face and said that it was time for me to get over this whole “fear of public speaking” thing because public speaking is not going away. There will always be projects, there will always be presentations, and I better get good at them or at least not sweat buckets and almost pass out while I’m up there. I needed and wanted to push myself out of my comfort zone and try new things. I filled out the sign-up sheet and placed it on Mr. Ballard’s desk. He was shook. Yeah, me too.

Some months later, my high school career became full of weekends where I would be anywhere else but home, wearing snazzy suits and heels that made my calves look hot. Yeah the traveling was cool, the winning was nice, and having people forced to listen to me talk for 10 minutes was awesome, but forensics was so much more than a competition where you’d speak pretty and win shiny trophies. It was through forensics that I found my voice, a group of friends I trusted with my life, and a self-confidence I had no idea I possessed.

During my career I competed in Oratory, OI, POI, and Duo, with my main event being Oratory. I’ve reached elimination rounds at Harvard, Yale, GMU, Berkeley, Sunvite, Emory, the Tournament of Champions, NCFL Nationals, and NSDA Nationals. I’ve also competed in the final rounds of Blue Key, Bronx, and the FFL Varsity State Tournament, and was a three-time NSDA qualifier. Speech has truly given me the opportunity to share ideas with an open-minded community, to passionately advocate for what I believe in, and to speak for those who do not have the courage nor the opportunity to speak up for themselves because they’re oppressed into silence.

As much as forensics is, technically, a competition, I’ve always emphasized the belief that this activity has the power to inspire others and make an impact on the world bigger than ourselves. The best part of this activity for me was not winning the round, but the people who would come up to me after the round with hugs and thank you’s telling me that they deeply related to what I had to say--people who thanked me for speaking on a certain topic because they were going through the exact thing that I was addressing--people who no longer felt alone. That was why I kept going. That was why I willingly woke up at 5 AM every Saturday and Sunday and put on an itchy pantyhose. That was why I sometimes didn’t eat until midnight because I was too busy in rounds. It made me so happy knowing that my words had so much influence on others and inspired them to live their lives unapologetically, give them a new sense of self-confidence, and let them know that there’s someone right there alongside them.

I’ve discovered myself through speech and debate, and in the process, I’ve also helped other people discover themselves. This is a community to share stories and experiences and through that, become more aware of people who come from all walks of life. This was truly an experience that I wouldn’t trade for the world and it’s definitely the best decision I’ve ever made in my life. Never in a million years would I imagine myself where I am now. That girl who nearly broke down in tears during her Civics presentation turned into an empowered young woman who’s not afraid to speak up for herself and others. I have speech and debate to thank for all of the beautiful life opportunities, friendships, and self-growth that I’ve gained. It’s the most wonderful thing and I cannot emphasize enough how much love I have for the activity and the community that changed my life for the better.

The Weekly Echo: Providing a Platform to Speech & Debate Alumni

Starting September 8th, teachspeech will be launching The Weekly Echo, which will retell the stories of speech and debate competitors, their personal growth from the activity, and why they advocate for teachspeech. From humor to poignancy, The Weekly Echo will be an interactive, biographic narrative on the importance of public speaking. We can't wait for the website to be white, black, and read all over!