The End of Life as We Know It- Carey Vandewalle

(I'm sure you all remember Carey from her evil ploys of posts past, but in case you didn't recognize her because she looks a little older and wiser, it's because she's old now and is the first ever alumni person to write for SCHADKL! She's also the first author for the first ever SCHSADKL Week or So of Guest Posts! Yay!) 

Hi everyone! Surprise! I know, I know, you must all be a little shocked to hear from me. I mean, I graduated and am no longer eligible to compete in Christian Homeschooled Speech and Debate. OH NO!!! This must mean that I have nothing left to live for and am now dead. Bother.

Haha, just kidding. I am very much alive and well and if you want will give you an enthusiastic hug to prove it. After you have gotten over your shock (the hug probably helps with that, too) pick up your comfort object (I’d assume it’s a flow pen or maybe one of those cool rolling debate cases that I never had) and hold tight because I’m about to blow your mind further. This is my attempt to explain to you why this post really does belong on a blog of Stuff We Like.

Graduation from debate is actually a ton of fun. 

It might be hard to believe that there’s possibly any life worth living that doesn’t include competition as a CHSADK, but really, there are all kinds of awesomeness waiting for you just around the corner. Two years ago, I was devastated to realize that my time competing wouldn’t last forever and begged my parents to allow me to super senior. They refused. Now, the time has come. My name will no longer be heard in breaks (well, my first name at least :D), I’ve walked across the stage and received my final award; I’ve prepped my last impromptu, given my last rebuttal, explained for the last time why personalfreedomoughttobevaluedaboveeconomicsecurity, thanked the timer and shook the judge’s hands for the final time. Yes, the tournament had its nostalgia. I mean, it’s natural to be a little sentimental. This activity literally changed my life, my relationships, and me personally forever and I will be forever grateful. BUT. I’m not here to be sad. You obviously have a lot of prep to do for NITOC tournaments that won’t be happening for several months but it’s always good to get an early start, right? So let’s get straight to the fun stuff: the fantastic parts about graduating. These are things that I’m really, really, really, really, really really excited about for next year. Think that was enough reallys? I don’t!

1.Coaching 

In all humility, alumni have learned a lot. Now, we don’t have our own events to practice every day so there’s nothing to do but bottle up our enthusiasm and energy and save it all to pour it out on you guys every week at club. I can’t wait.

2. Judging

Seriously, I’m pretty sure the first time someone at ballot push (like maybe my mom, who works there a lot and is great at her job) hands me my first, real, grown-up ballot, I’m going to start jumping up and down uncontrollably with joy. Hopefully they won’t take that as a sign that I’m not old enough or anything, because I’m stoked to judge. The way I see it, as a competitor, I could help one person improve their speaking and thinking skills: me. As a judge or coach, every round I’ll get a chance to help sharpen the skills of, at the very least, two fantastic CHSADKs and I plan on judging/coaching lots and lots, so that’s dozens of you wonderful people that I get to help. I already have lots and lots of ideas about how to make judging and ballot writing more fun. You should hope I judge you. Or maybe not. >_> In any case, I’m absolutely thrilled.

3. The Judge’s Lounge

This hardly needs explanation. We’ve all heard of this magical place where cookies grow on bushes and there are little waterfalls of coffee and lemonade, and you can listen to the licorice birds sing while the muffin squirrels give you chocolate kisses as you blissfully write sweet notes and circle all the 5s in speaker points and 1s on IE ballots. I’ve imagined how it must be over and over and I’m sure I’m right. I’m not sure where the 5th and Below ballots get filled out but probably not in there. Anyone with experience can correct me if I’m wrong, but you risk dashing all my wildest dreams, just so you know. You’d turn me into a Disgruntled Alumni. Now that I’m graduated, I may be allowed to enter this paradise. So maybe it is like dying, just a little bit.

4. Not Having to Wear a Suit

Wearing a suit is definitely cool. It’s very classy and looks awfully sharp. But you have to admit, they aren’t the most comfortable of attire. Guy, you may legitimately complain about your ties. A little. They look too fantastic to merit much protest. Girls, I know far better how we have been forced to suffer, with stockings and heels and worst of all, no pockets. After graduation, you no longer have to wear any of that and can arrive in jeans and comfy sweaters. You might have already experienced this after you’re finished competing for the day and you know how good it feels. In addition, I’m the kind of person that makes friends with people who have much longer legs than mine. With the exception of one near and dear person whose legs are actually shorter. It’s a lot easier to run around and have fun with tall people if you don’t have the additional disadvantage of wearing a skirt and heels. 

5. Adventuring at Tournaments

Unfortunately I haven’t done as much of this at tournaments as I would have liked. I always had, you know, debate rounds and stuff that I had to hang around for. As an alumnus, I’ll be able to spend rounds I’m not judging either watching speeches and debates or exploring the campus. Both can be great adventures. If you want me to come watch your speech, let me know. I’d be happy to come. 

There’s nothing to be sad about concerning graduation. SAD is happy. It’s the best thing that ever happened to me. But there’s plenty to be excited for about being an alumnus and I probably just got started. Is there anything you’re looking forward to especially? Maybe hearing all of my younger siblings names called at breaks and awards over and over and not just for timer recognition? :D Or making friends with me so that I save you some of my candy from the magical paradise that is the judge’s lounge? I’m telling you, it pays to make friends with alumni. I know this from experience.

I can’t wait to see you all at tournaments next year!

You’re homeschooled, but not forever.

Obsessing Over What to Wear for Tournaments- Carey Vandewalle

(Carey is attempting to commandeer my blog. This is evident by the numerous guest posts. But her posts are so funny that I have no motivation to foil her devious plot.)

Hey guys.

Guess what.

There’s a tournament tomorrow.

Yea.

I know.

It’s crazy.

I hope you’re ready. I hope you’re excited. I hope I’ll see you there, and I hope I’ll see you onstage at awards.

Onstage at awards?! In front of all Stoa?! Yep! Relax. Because you have your suits all planned out, to look your schnazzy best all four, long days.

It’s very important to take a break from frantically scouring the internet to make sure your case did not go inherent LAST NIGHT, and distractedly printing every brief you can find against Death Tax, and calmly and collectedly putting the finishing touches on your case explaining why personal freedom ought to be valued above economic security. Heh. No bias here.

But that break must be taken to open your closet and consider your options.

Maybe it’s just me. But I suspect that we all spend quite a while pondering the important question: which blouse looks best with which skirt? What shirt color would best set off this tie?

Me: “Mom, does this work?”

Mom: “Hmm, because that shirt is cream-colored, it doesn’t go with the white in the skirt”

(4 outfits later, I think she’s just telling me ‘yes’ so that I stop asking her).

Friend who does debate: “So, I’ve been wanting to experiment with some new shirt/tie color combinations. Do you have any suggestions before my mom takes me shopping?”

Some girls are lucky. They have a guy for their duo or debate partner that they get to advise on what to wear. I am without either. So I leapt at the chance to give my friend all my great ideas I’d be saving without a person to give them too.

Deciding what to wear for the tournament is very important. Maybe this is your first year and your suit is already perfectly pressed, ready for you to rock. Maybe you just have to decide which of your two suits to start the every-other-alternation with. Maybe you’ve been doing this forever and have an entire closet of options. But whatever it is, you have spent a good amount of time pondering how to look your best. If you’re like me, that is.

There are a couple of reasons why it’s important.

First, suits are just plain awesome! One of my favorite parts of tournaments is looking around at everyone looking so pro in their suits. Really. It’s great. And you are awesome, so you deserve to look great, too.

Second, your appearance really does matter. There’s a little box on your ballot for ‘professional appearance’ and here I could tell lots of horror stories of very particular judges with high expectations. It pays to look good, trust me. Judges have been known to vote on which guy’s tie they liked better. I’m pretty sure my partner and I only won a few of our rounds because of his tie. Almost every mom judge we had made some kind of comment like “Wow! You looked great! Wonderful tie/shirt combo with your coloring!” Maybe once every five ballots someone would say “pretty pin!” to me. It was funny. You can laugh. I don’t mind.

You’ve worked so hard on your AI (Awesome Interpretation) and practiced your impromptu so many times. Now it’s time to brush your hair, don your suit, straighten your tie, add a pretty pin, and take on this thing. You’re going to be amazing.

You’re homeschooled. I like your suit/blouse/shoes/tie.

Trying to Send Your Debate Partner Messages Via Mental Telepathy-Carey Vandewalle

(Carey is the awesomest person who has ever written a post about telepathy on my blog. Plus she's an excellent writer. Please welcome back... CAREY VANDEWALLE.)


I had an awesome and fantastic and all-around great debate partner. The fact that I only debated in TP for one year was not his fault. Not many guys would put up with all that he did. He dealt with my frustrated sarcasm, late night hysteria, insanely distractible mind, doodles of skull-and-crossbones on my flows, and bad habit of never eating at tournaments. He patiently restated countless clever strategies that had taken several minutes to explain only to get a blank stare and a “oh, sorry, I wasn’t listening” from me. He always laughed at my lame jokes about nuclear weapons. He never got mad when I refused to listen to him during debate rounds, and he faithfully made fun of me when I was being ridiculous. He never flaunted the fact that he got higher speaks about 85% of the time, or the harsh reality that he always got more compliments on his appearance than I ever did on our ballots. Add all this to the fact that he is a brilliant debater, very knowledgeable, and (obviously) an accomplished speaker, and I was certainly blessed to be his partner. Did I mention that he is still friends with me?!  This kid is great.

Now that I have spend a more than adequate time flattering him, I can now get on to my real post. Not that all that wasn’t real. It was! But acting as my ex-partner’s wingman was not my purpose. However, he is single, ladies. 

Anyway, despite how awesome he is, he and I didn’t always communicate very well at the most important times. Those most important times being that critical moment when he is standing at the podium and I am sitting at the table and he is talking at the judge and she looks confused but he doesn’t see because he’s looking at his flow and we’re about to have the other team in an amazing double bind if he can only craft the arguments carefully enough and he really really really needs to impact this crucial disadvantage or it won’t work and he’s not going far enough and he needs to add that one last sentence but he’s not and I’m sitting at the table dying of distress.  You know those most important times? Yea, those times. Anyway, it was at those important times that I resorted to mental telepathy to try and enter his brain and convince him to say that one essential sentence.

I’d casually tried it before, but never at such momentous occasions. It hadn’t ever worked. But I thought, if I’m ever going to make this thing work, it has GOT to be now. That “now” was not just one round. It was at least twice at every given tournament.  

I would sit there concentrating on his mind and repeating my message over and over in a desperate attempt to reach him before all would be lost.  

It never worked.

He would smoothly move on to another argument, little suspecting that he had just murdered his only debate partner. Cause of death? Strain due to malfunctioned mental telepathic communications equipment, and explosion due to distress. It’s a wonder I’m still alive.

You have probably tried this in some form or another, too. Sometimes it really feels like lightning bolts covered in flame throwers and tigers will fall from heaven and obliterate your chances of ever winning NITOC if your partner doesn’t make that all-important point. But you know, they’ve probably felt the same way about you. And despite the fact that you have just died a thousand deaths from the above causes, life goes on.  

But I did not attempt Inception. If I compete in Parliamentary debate, I most certainly shall have a go. So if you’re my partner, and your dreams get real bizarre, you’ll know why.

You’re homeschooled, and killing your partner is a bad idea. Moral of the story, kids.

Tim Hawkins- Carey Vandewalle

(I have here an excellent guest post written by my good friend Carey Vandewalle. It's pretty much awesome. I hope you agree.)


One of the best things about Christian Homeschooled Speech and Debate Kids is how much we love to laugh/giggle/poke fun at ourselves.  I mean, you’d almost think we didn’t know how to make jokes about anything else.

Whether it’s because one of us is being genius or ridiculous, smooth or awkward, someone else is bound to point out the obviously hilarious fact: said individual must have been—you guessed it!—homeschooled.

I bet that’s why we like Tim Hawkins.

Not only does he homeschool his own kids (and you remember the oath we all had to swear before not getting on the bus: be ever intensely loyal and partial to our own) but he also makes fun of us.  And we love that.

Any comedian who devotes an entire music video to memorializing the quirks, awesomeness, and violence involved in being “A Homeschool Family” (snap, snap) is bound to be profoundly appreciated.

If you’re suffering from ADD and just don’t have the time, I’m sorry.  But for the rest of you, that’s not all!

Even more than laughing at ourselves, we like it when people hear about how dang smart we all are.  Tim has pointed this out.  While making a series of jokes comparing Christians to Satanists to Atheists to Agnostics, Tim kindly remembered that not every celebration-style categorized soul in his audience was fortunate enough to be homeschooled.  “Homeschoolers, explain to your neighbor what agnostic means.” He drawled.   How we roared.

Ah, yes.  He recognizes our inherent intelligence.  That’s funny.  I’m not sure why, but it is.  But then, not much of homeschool humor makes sense, anyway.  We know it, and Tim knows it.  That’s why we quote his skits verbatim, burst helplessly into giggles when hapless and well-meaning people pray for a “Hedge of Protection,” and sing his songs over and over.  Especially “The Government Can”  because it makes fun of the government, something else we homeschoolers love to do.

You’re homeschooled, and though of course you never listen to The Beatles, you know what Tim Hawkins likes to “Imagine.”