Double-Tagging

Before I did debate, there were numerous things I found really, really funny about it. One of those things was a concept I now know is called "double-tagging." To a flowing debater, it's actually very convenient. You know what to write down because the speaker says it twice. If you didn't catch the tag the first time, he'll say it again. It's very helpful. I see that now. But to a mere observer who doesn't know how to flow and can't remember what "Solvency" means, it's hilarious. I knew that whatever was said twice must have been important (why else would you say it twice?) but that was all I understood about double-tagging.

Besides allowing the other team to catch your arguments, double-tagging has some other handy advantages as well:

1. More time
EvidentlyItalkfastindebatewhoknewright? Well, I know this now because my 1AC would always go way shorter than it was supposed to. The solution? Double-tag everything important. Slowly. It's a great tool. It takes lots of time, which is why I don't always double-tag in the 1AR.

2. Wake up the judges
Debate is sort of boring when judges have been judging it for the past three days. The easy way to get them back into the round is to double-tag. The important stuff is the stuff you say twice, so they know to write it down. Even I knew that.

3. A chance to make eye contact
Debate is a lot of reading. This makes it hard to look at the judges, unless you memorized your evidence, which I never did intentionally. So, be sure to make eye-contact during the second tagline. And try to look up at other times too, because no one will actually see you because they'll be writing down your tag.

4. A friendly reminder that everyone is listening to you
This is your speech. You are the one they're listening too. In fact, even if you start repeating yourself, they're still going to listen to you and only you. Muahahaha!

Double-tagging is not only funny, but also kind of fun! Allow me to demonstrate:

You're homeschooled.
You're homeschooled.

The Ways People React When You're Practicing

I do a great deal of practicing speeches at tournaments. I used to be the find-an-empty-wall type of speaker, and while I still am, I don't always need walls anymore. Now, I just talk to myself wherever I'm standing: in the hall, waiting for postings, waiting in line at the snack table, waiting for meals... You get the idea. I'm at a competition right now, in fact, and have practiced all three of the speeches I've got here at some point today. The reactions I get both here and previously are absolutely priceless. Here's a few I've seen over the years:

1. Feeling Awkward
These people kind of look at you, and kind of don't. They make eye contact long enough to realize that you're talking to no one, and then look away. You're crazy and should not be messed with.

2. Interrupting You
One time, I was practicing my Persuasive for a friend of mine who doubles as my Persuasive coach and another friend randomly walked up and hugged me, not realizing what I was doing. I stopped mid-sentence to say, "Um. Hi." before someone explained what I was doing. Then he left. Also, sometimes people realize you're practicing, so they walk up cautiously and stand for a few seconds. You see them, but you're practicing, so you don't acknowledge them for a bit until things get awkward and you let them interrupt to say hi or chat about the weather and the speeches you have or whatever. Or they'll interrupt to ask if you're sane.

3. Staring
I'm sorry, but if you practice speeches by talking to yourself (like I do), you're kind of a freak. Have you ever stared at someone who had weird hair, or extremely tall shoes, or who went to public school? Then you can understand why people stare at you. Or maybe it's just a good speech.

4. Trying Hard To Ignore You
Within the course of today, I had the same group of kids walk by while I was practicing on three different occasions. They must certainly think I am crazy, but they tried to pretend like they didn't see me. I happen to know some of them are quite crazy themselves, so maybe they are genuinely immune to other absurdities. Regardless, they didn't act like they saw me until I awkwardly waved.

5. Laughing Because You're Weird
And do you blame then? It's funny to see people talking to themselves. Especially interpers. Talk about multiple personalities.

6. Laughing Because They're Practicing Too
I have developed a tendency to walk around in circles while practicing platforms. Other people do stuff like that too, practicing while walking through hallways, perhaps on their way to a room or perhaps walking just to practice. It's funny when you're doing the same thing and you make eye contact and then smile and laugh because you're both talking to yourselves together.

Whether the reactions you get amused, startled, or extremely concerned, practicing speeches at tournaments is totally worth it. Not only is it very helpful, but you get to be amused by other people as well. Not just the people who are watching you, but you're encouraging others to practice too. Then you can laugh at them. Cool.

You're homeschooled. Get practicing.

Acting Really Extra Super Nice In Rounds

I have had several really bizarre rounds, and I've only debated 24 rounds in competition in my entire life.
Huh. That's weird. When I put it that way, it sounds like a lot, but I had intended for it not to. Weird.

Anyway, this year was my first in debate, so I haven't been debating that long, clearly. But of course, as evidenced by every other post, I still notice some occurrences that frequently occur in-round. And, of course, the exceptions.

One such exception was at my second debate competition ever. I was under the impression that us CHSADKs always acted really extra super nice in rounds. That is generally true. Perhaps that's why I was so taken aback in the first Cross-Ex, right after my 1AC. And then when I got up to Cross-Ex the next guy. These debaters had a strange habit of YELLING REALLY LOUD. Some might call it passion. I called it "scary." I seem to have blocked most of my memories during that round, but I definitely recall one conversation.

Other Guy: So you're saying that YOUR ONLY PIECE OF EVIDENCE under that advantage IS FROM A BIASED. SOURCE.
Me: (here I got mad.) NO.
Other Guy: (visibly shocked in my imagination.)
Me: That is not a biased source because [awesome comeback] and that is not our only piece of evidence.
Other Guy: (probably gritting teeth) Nofurtherquestions.

And his partner yelled at me in my Cross-Ex too. :(
Without even thinking, I stepped back as soon as he raised his voice. Perhaps it was to exaggerate our height difference in the eyes of the judge, so I looked even smaller. I don't know. Then my voice got really high, and I responded to him verryy slowwlly, like I talk to the kids I babysit when they're about to throw a tantrum. It was a weird reaction, but it worked.

What startled me so much about this round is that most of the people I have debated have always been really extra super nice to me in rounds. And I try to be really extra super nice too, especially against less-experienced teams. It's a lot more fun that way. There have been so many instances where I have had to remind myself (and my partner) simply to be nice. It's cool when the judges notice and your speaker points reflect, but it's much cooler when the other person/team is nice right back at ya, and then everyone's nice and charming and smiley and happy and stuff.

We're good kids, aren't we? That's rhetorical. You could leave a comment and answer if you want, though. But really, I mean it. We're good kids. We're nice even to the people we're competing against. I love that about us. Way to set a good example, other people.

But I didn't really tell you the end of that one story I told you a few paragraphs ago. See, as it turns out, those two guys are actually very nice, just not in rounds, where they tend to be very, uh... intense. I didn't like them much after that round, but they totally redeemed themselves later on, just in case you were curious.

You're homeschooled. Be nice. I know I don't have to tell you twice.

When Your Friends Watch You Speak

If there is anything better than strangers going to a room specifically to watch you speak, it has to be when your friends do that very thing. I've always loved how supportive we are of each other. And what better way to support a friend's speech career than to go watch them? Granted, sometimes we get nervous when other people watch us, at least at the beginning. But generally, we get over that and love it when people care enough to come and see us.


An alumni friend of mine came to a tournament where I was competing last year. He met me on the way to my duo room.
"Hey, I'm coming to watch to your duo, so it'd better be funny."
"Oh, well, it's not."
"It's not?"
"No, it's actually really depressing."
"Oh."


Then he looked really sad later.
Ok, maybe that wasn't the best example. I mean, he did go specifically to see me, but maybe he was just feeling depressed from the speech. Sometimes people watch my sad speeches and feel depressed, and then I feel like giving them a hug.


But there are tons and tons and tons of other times my wonderful friends have watched me speak and been happy after, which is always very great. And yea, they still make me nervous. And I love it anyway.


Face it: if you're in a speech and debate league for Christian homeschoolers and have managed to make a friend or two, chances are you're friends with some seriously talented people. Why would you not want to watch them? Also, chances are that if you're in this league, you like having the attention on you. Not in a prideful, vain sort of way, but in a I-like-performing-and-communicating sort of way. Isn't that why we're here?


Another reason we're here (besides to speak) is to hear speeches! That's one of the best parts! Don't you love it when your friends fill up a room for you? Or when you get to fill up a room for your friend?


You're homeschooled. I'm feeling the love.

The Student Snack Table- Hannah Socolofsky

(Pleaaasssee welcome, one of my good friends who is not only fantastic, but one of this here blog's very first readers: Hannah Socolofskyyyyy!)

The student snack table at tournaments is the light of my existence.  And the bane of my existence, too.  But we won’t go there.  *herm*

If you’re a CHSADK, you’ve probably at least seen, if not taken advantage of, the student snack table.  I mean, come on!  Who doesn’t like a table that has tiny cups of food on it and smiling ladies sitting there behind it???  You’d have to be crazy not to occasionally hang out by The Table.  

There are five types of people at tournaments:  

1.The Glutton

Another name for this person is . . . well, me.  This is the person who takes way too many little cups of Cheez-its and pretzels and red vines . . . simply because they are there.  You’re not necessarily hungry.  You’re not necessarily bored.  You see food.  You nab it.  It’s an instinct.  

2. The Sharer

This is the person who oh-so-very kindly takes only one or two dixie cups of food and gives one to a friend.  This just about makes the day of the person on the receiving end.  Also, the less food you take from The Table, the more there is for others.  See?  Sharing skills.  

3. The Food Snob

This is the person who doesn’t even know that the snack table exists, and even when they do, don’t take advantage of it.  They have a cooler full of yummy snacks they’re familiar with.  There’s a Jamba Juice around the corner.  Who needs infinitesimal cups filled with unhealthy junk food?  

4. The Stalker

This person usually has radar attached to their head.  Whenever the student snack table moves, they freak out until their radar locates it again.  Once The Table is found, their peace of mind is back.  (NOTE:  See # 1) 

I have yet to meet a stalker, but I’m sure there’s one out there.  I mean, I have a momentary heart attack every time I see the snack table gone.  My mind goes into panic survival mode as it gasps for lack of junk food.  Surely I’m not the only one.  Right?  RIGHT??  *sighs* Ratz.  

5. The Sneaker

No, I don’t mean the shoe.  This is a different sneaker.  It’s a sneak-er.  This is the person who always feels slight guilty going to the snack table because they know that their mom would have a heart attack if she knew what they were filling up on.  Because they never get these snacks at home, they gorge on them at tournaments.  Do you do this?  Viola.  You are a Sneaker.   

The student snack table was a brilliant idea.  There is food.  Kids work hard at tournaments.  They need sustenance.  Hence, the student snack table.  The ladies kindly sit there in the hot sun refilling Dixie cups all day simply for the benefit of the students.  How kind is that?  

Next time you see the student snack table, go up and thank the ladies for what they do.  Where would you be without them?  Yes, that’s right.  You would be rummaging in your cooler, eating HEALTHY stuff.  Blecchhkk.  

You’re homeschooled.  Eat yourself into a food coma.  

Stereotyping Competitors Based On Their Events

Sometimes I'm tempted to stereotype our competitors based on events. Which is what I decided to call this post. "Stereotyping Competitors Based On Their Events." Snazzy, right?


Anyway, I'm not sure when this started, but I guess it did. It couldn't have been my novice year, because I didn't really know anything then. Maybe this year. Or last year. Either way, at some point in my life, I got into the habit of anthropomorphizing each IE and debate event. These personifications are basically descriptions of what the people in them probably do and say. Are they accurate? Well, see for yourself:


TPers like to talk fast, give arguments that make sense half the time but always sound really intelligent, and argue about anything and everything. LDers, on the other hand, are incredibly philosophic and don't have to say much at all for you to hold them in the highest respect because whatever they just said with those big, smart-sounding words has got to be true. People who do Impromptu, much like TPers, never stop talking. They could talk about anything and everything and know all kinds of historical figures like the back of their hands and Never. Stop. Talking about them. People who do Apologetics can also talk at length, but about really important things that would hurt the Impromptu people's brains, like the meaning of the monotheistically-given decalogue found in the pentateuch and its relation to soteriology and the parsimonious idiosyncratic significance thereof and you'll be way too confused to realize that that last sentence didn't make any sense at all. The Extempers are also really confusing, but they like to talk about entire countries you've never heard of and all sorts of breaking news that will probably be in the papers a week from now because they are that on top of things. The DI people cry a lot; the HI people laugh a lot; the OI people don't do anything except, I don't know, open doors and drawers and other things. Boxes, maybe. The Persuasive people are passionately convicted in every area imaginable and want you to be passionately convicted as well. The Original Oratory speakers talk and talk and talk much like the Impromptu-ers, but not about people- they just talk about abstract concepts, kind of like the LDers, but the OOers are way easier to understand. The Expos people fidget nervously if they aren't holding or pointing at anything. And the people who do Wildcards are kind of what the event sounds like: wild and bouncing off the walls. Very impulsive. Kinda seems like you'd have to be to do an event that only lasts a year.

Do you know anyone who fits any of those categories? Yea, you might. Like two people. I know one guy who's the TPer. Ok, two guys, but one actually did LD so he probably shouldn't count. There is, of course, the annoying fact that the vast majority of CHSADKs compete in more than one event. Then again, we already knew that interpers have multiple personalities, so I guess it's ok to fit more than one stereotype.


So yea. Basically, these stereotypes probably are not all that true ever, but isn't that what's fun? Like I mentioned recently, anybody can do speech and debate. Sure, we're a lot alike in a lot of ways. But we're all crazy and different, and that's cool.


You're homeschooled, so you're probably crazy too.