Debate

I learned about debate in junior high school, and starting in ninth grade I joined the high school debate team. The team met after school on Tuesdays in order to prepare for Saturday debates, and we received a partner. There was one debate topic per year. On most Saturdays we arrived early at the high school, and all team members were driven on a bus to a school in the Milwaukee region. Students from several schools assembled in a large room. My partner and I had two formal debates in the morning, and one in the afternoon. Each debate consisted of each of the four members making an original 10-minute speech, followed by 5-minute speeches.

My partner and I started poorly, but we gradually won one debate of the three, and eventually all three debates of the day. I remember being thrilled at the positive results, and sat in a bus home to Brookfield, the sun fading, and gradually feeling in a different world.

Because of our success, my partner and I eventually went from the “C Level” up to the “B Level”, which included older students, and eventually the “A Level.” We got better and better, spent much time together in the afternoons and evenings, and became more mature. Our high school coach was pretty good, but he gradually fell apart as an active alcoholic.

My partner and I did quite well my junior year, but I got along poorly with my new debate coach. I eventually dropped debate during my senior year of high school. My partner, Allen Roberts, got a new partner, and they were excellent, and made it to the national championships.

Years later I started personal psychotherapy in order to deal with my grief related to dad’s death. I told the therapist that when I was younger I was often too much involved with school and did not play often enough. I mentioned that I went to debate competition on Saturdays, and did not spend enough time playing with friends. My therapist, in a kindly tone of voice, simply said, “Oh well, the debate probably helped you to learn and speak publicly.” I blew up, lost my temper, and said, “That is exactly what dad used to say.” Because I spoke angrily, later that session I was able to cry about my deceased father for the first time.