High School Debate

Those of you who know me somewhat well know that I was on the debate team in high school. Those of you who know me really well know that I was not good at debate AT ALL. I joined debate in the first place because going into high school I was crazy shy and had absurd stage-fright. I figured debate would help alleviate that, and maybe make me a better public speaker. That said, I went in feeling pretty confident about being able to do well. After all, I like discussing things and considering different viewpoints on various topics.

But it turns out that's not what debate is at all. It's the formality that kills it, it's the competitive nature of the debates that I think are its ultimate downfall. It's just so rigid. You have to, HAVE TO, go into every discussion knowing that you might not be right. At least, that's a rule I have about discussing things with people. That way you don't get caught saying something ridiculous and stupid because you aligned yourself with a specific viewpoint.

And that's not to say that it's best not to have opinions, certainly have opinions! It's a detriment to our human ability to have perspective if you DON'T have any opinions. I think the key, though, is to keep your perspective transitive. By that I mean that it's important to listen and understand where other people are coming from before you dig yourself into a big hole by asserting something you don't really understand. To that end, if you do assert something you really understand, isn't it fun to talk about why you're right with people who don't agree with you? That's debate, that's interesting, and that's productive.

In debate, at least high school debate, you're given a topic and a side to that topic you have to argue. An example is, "Is a parent's right to know greater than a child's right to privacy." And certainly this has value. It makes you go outside of what you would normally agree with and forces you to see differing perspectives. This exercise also develops basic argument skills. By being obliged to argue something you don't necessarily believe you have to look for basic holes in your opponents logic and attack them. It's like doing algebra: there aren't specific numbers, but universal symbols that you must apply basic laws to.

So high school debate certainly has it's good qualities. That said, it's got an obvious slant towards law study. When else in life are you ever, EVER going to argue for something with which you don't agree? But it gets so formal, high school debate (competitive debate in general). It's like a kick-boxer being told he can't use his feet. You say your piece, you get asked questions, opponent says their piece, you ask questions, rebuttal, opponent rebuttal, your last rebuttal, the end. Ugh. Just let me talk in real-time, maybe we'll get something out there we never expected. Maybe instead of looking up what old dead White guys said about the topic, we'll draw our own conclusions about things. Incidentally, competitive debate often becomes an argument over the value of what a source said and who said it more than an argument about the topic, which makes the whole rigid structure of it needlessly time-consuming and stilting at times (thankfully not all the time).

But what can I say? At times, high school debate was torture: waking up early on Saturday mornings and spending your entire weekend in a high school cafeteria. You'd be hungry, and tired, and if you lost a round probably a little pissed off. It was its own little clicky microcosm and had its own cast of characters that were always fluttering around. Some people found their stride, others cracked under the pressure of it all and quit, and some people (like me) stayed grudgingly in the middle. When I think about it, I wonder why I wasn't better at it, really. Then I realize that competitive debate, to me, just wasn't all that fun. It wasn't exciting, and it wasn't conducive to how I communicate with people, and I didn't like being judged on opinions that weren't my own.

That said, ALL that said, I'm a better public speaker now, and I no longer worry about being in front of people. In college when people were agonizing over presentations they had to give I was never really phased. And that's not meant to sound arrogant, it was just something I got used to--like playing piano, or gymnastics (which are just examples, I do neither of those things). So to that end, I guess there's something to be said for toughing out situations that seem long and painful. I didn't realize at the time all the good I was doing for myself, I just saw the sleeplessness, the defeat, and the hunger pains. But now, now that I'm in my early twenties and far removed from the experience, I think I get it.

Thanks, Mr. Lang.