Memory can be unpredictable.
Like a gradually deteriorating book, the initial abundance of detail and description in my novel about the end of the summer school debate has diminished. However, the essence of the entire experience remains intact, akin to a back-cover synopsis. We are on the verge of commencing our annual debating tournament, and the instructor’s enthusiastic beam reflects his satisfaction that we have reached this stage. This event will mark the culmination of our six weeks of learning and significantly contribute to our course grade.
Tomorrow at 8 am, we will begin. It is crucial to practice and get sufficient rest for the session. I eagerly anticipate your presence at that time.
I remember my parents suggesting summer school, although I’m not certain what ignited my curiosity in the course. At first, I opposed the notion of attending summer school but that altered when I was presented with an ultimatum: either attend school or secure a job. Since then, I have been fully supportive of off-season learning.
When I was fifteen years old, I discovered that the workplace wasn’t suitable for me. While looking for other options, I found a course book that became my constant companion. Among various choices, there was a page solely focused on Debate and Public Speaking which caught my attention. What fascinated me was a striking image of a self-assured boy standing confidently behind an impressive podium, passionately involved in an influential argument. Reading about this course immediately convinced me that it was something I wanted to be a part of.
Why settle for a dull math class or an unimportant art course when you have the opportunity to join a demanding debate course that culminates in an exciting week-long tournament? After submitting the necessary paperwork, I found myself in a large lecture hall, eagerly learning the skills and techniques of competitive debate. Despite being only fifteen years old and lacking experience, I refused to be disheartened. Although I was the youngest and least experienced student in my class, I made a conscious effort to overcome my limitations by diligently jotting down notes on all the valuable information shared by our teacher during our hour-long sessions.
Despite my diligent preparations for the initial debate, my efforts proved fruitless. A girl’s remarkable display of talent indicated a bright future as a lawyer, overshadowing me. Shortly after, a boy deceived the judge so effectively that all my evidence was ignored, hinting at his potential as a politician. This unfortunate trend continued with different adversaries but yielded similar outcomes. Despite growing bitterness and discouragement, I remained determined not to surrender.
Instead of compiling long lists of what I had done wrong and how to improve, I studied and reviewed my lists, reliving the anguish that accompanied each pointer. The teacher’s announcement that the tournament would begin in a day and we should rest halted the growth of the lists. Don’t let your speech blow away in the wind and look the judge in the eye were some pointers that stuck with me.
Take a deep breath and speak without stuttering. The next morning, I entered the debate and delivered a speech in a mediocre tone, rambling through it. After delivering my mediocre conclusion, I waited for the judge’s decision, not because I needed it to confirm my impending loss, but because it is polite to do so.
So I was sitting in my chair, adding to the list, as the judge announced that we had all earned the same number of points. However, because ties were not permitted, he had declared me as the winner of the debate. I was completely shocked by this, but I hid my disbelief to ensure that the judge believed I deserved the accolade. When I shook hands with my opponent, it felt different compared to before. Perhaps it was because this time I was the one offering the handshake instead of receiving it. I had ultimately claimed the grand prize, and that handshake served as his consolation gift.
I deleted the points I had added to the list, as I was improving my debate skills but not ready for any success. It is possible that the list now addressed all potential difficulties, ensuring that I would not lose, but I was skeptical. I happily extended my hand for a handshake at the conclusion of the following four rounds, advancing to the semi-finals. While I never anticipated an easy debate, when the politician entered the room and shook my hand, I recognized that this match would present a challenge.
After winning the coin toss, he opted for the affirmative side and thus had the opportunity to determine the debate’s terms. The resolution provided was “be it resolved that two heads are better than one.” Utilizing his past debating expertise, he skillfully redefined the terms as “sexual reproduction is superior to asexual reproduction” and delivered a persuasive argument on how life gains advantages from sexual reproduction. It took me some time to formulate a response since he spoke for approximately two minutes.
However, I managed to win the case by presenting various supporting points. Firstly, I highlighted the lower occurrence of birth defects in asexual reproduction. Additionally, I brought up the successful process of grafting lost limbs back onto plants as evidence. Lastly, I emphasized the impressive rate at which populations of asexual reproducers can multiply. The coherence and organization of my words, along with logical reasoning, were well-received. On a positive note, the judge validated my claim, confirming my victory.
Out of a group of 50 individuals, including myself as the youngest and least experienced, I managed to reach the final round of a double elimination tournament without losing a single match. Filled with joy, I shook my opponent’s hand and quickly headed home. The next day, the final match took place at an outdoor amphitheater with a crowd of 30 spectators in attendance.
With unwavering confidence from the previous match, I neglected to review my cherished list of debate mistakes. Despite the sunshine and anticipated heat, a gentle breeze provided a pleasant atmosphere. Approaching the same exquisite podium captured in the photograph, I aimed to exude conviction and composure akin to the boy in the catalog. As I presented the definitions and initiated my arguments, the mischievous breeze abruptly seized my notes from the podium and flung them to the ground.
I stopped and retrieved the items, however, the atmosphere was ruined and, for unknown reasons, the audience became hostile. Initially, a few individuals in the back rows started taunting. Unfortunately, this heckling quickly spread throughout the entire audience, diverting their attention from my argument and instead searching for errors to criticize. I struggled to maintain composure, experiencing rapid breathing and occasional stuttering.
Before I could further damage my chances of winning, fortunately, time ran out. When the audience was asked to vote for the winning side, not a single vote was cast in my favor. My opponent shook my hand and I received a cup as a consolation prize. Although the cup appeared empty, I will forever associate it with a mix of humiliation and humility.
Even now, I maintain the folly list and examine it prior to every debate. Though I often wish to erase that embarrassing incident from my memory, it did lead to one positive outcome. I persisted in debating even after summer school concluded and I still engage in the activity to this day. Refusing to conclude my debating journey on such a bitter note, I joined the Loomis Debate Society and have yet to encounter a defeat as devastating as the mishap in summer school.
Despite the initial struggle I had during my first school debate, I found solace in the fact that it would still be better than my previous experience. Since then, I have participated in national tournaments, acquired the position of Debate Society president, and encountered both triumphs and defeats. Considering my journey began with humiliation and a summer break from work, I must admit that my achievements are quite impressive. Even when all the pages have detached from the book cover, the inscription on its back will forever remind me of the exhilarating pursuit and emotionally challenging ordeal that unfolded.
