The first round of the first tournament of the Boston Debate League’s fourth season has just gotten underway. With about forty students competing, it is one of our largest events ever. Unfortunately, 90% of the debaters are from 50% of the schools in the League. While these schools are doing very well, the other half of the League has not gotten off to such a good start. It’s something we’ll need to work on during the year, but seeing the enthusiasm, and the nervousness, of all the students here makes it seem like a much more manageable problem than it did earlier this week.
There is such a hectic energy that surrounds these events, particularly the first one of the year, when there are so many kids who are trying debate out for the first time. Some are driven by their fear to arrive early and pace nervously outside of the school until I arrive to let them in. Others panic and can only be coaxed into coming by coaches and teammates who spend the arrival/breakfast hour furiously calling and texting their no-shows.
These coaches, veteran and novice alike, scramble to marshal their squads for the season opener. They have registered their students with me several days ago in teams of two, but I’ve learned to prepare for a barrage of 11th hour changes:
“Shanice isn’t coming, drop her and pair Marcus with Beni. Tarell can debate alone.”
“Chanelle and Kiki are having a spate; we need to split them up. Pair Chanelle with Dan and Kiki with Jemal.”
“I have a student who’s never been to a practice, but he’s here now and wants to debate. He’s not registered. Is that OK? Can we find him a partner from a different school?”
“Shanice is here, let’s put her back with Marcus, then Beni and Tarell will debate together after all.”
It takes me three drafts of the schedule for Round 1 to get everything straight. Almost half the teams in the Novice division are from the same school, meaning that they can not debate against each other, and my computer program has difficulty generating a schedule that meets this constraint. Meanwhile, there are only four teams in the Varsity division, and although two of them are from the same school, there is no way around pairing them against each other for one of the three rounds. But computers are not given to such compromises, and ultimately it becomes easier to print the closest approximation that the program can give me and then correct it by hand.
All of this logistical work occurs amidst a blur of commotion: stomping feet, pounding music, beeping timers, and the din of young voices echoing through the vast hallways of this big brick schoolhouse. I puzzle over the constantly shifting matrix of school names and student initials, all the while incorporating last minute changes, pointing late arrivals vaguely in the direction of the auditorium, where donuts and coffee await them, and fending off unimportant inquiries and requests to “hurry, the students are getting restless.” It is as demanding as playing eight tables of poker at once, and I love every second of it.
Finally, I’m ready to photocopy and distribute the pairings just ten minutes behind schedule. Only a few people notice that I’ve entered the auditorium and ascended the wooden stairs to the podium at center stage, but they quickly start a chorus of shushing the spreads quickly across the disparate huddles of well-dressed teenagers.
“Good morning, everyone. Thanks for your patience. The veterans among you know that it wouldn’t be a BDL tournament without some hectic activity in the morning. But you also know that we usually make up that time over the course of the day and finish ahead of schedule, because I’m just that good.” Usually my faux arrogance is a good for laughs or even a few cheers, but this crowd is anxious to get started. I skip my introductions and get right to business, making a few announcements and then handing out the pairings and the judge’s ballots.
A mob of people, coaches and students alike, converge on the pile of paper at the front of the auditorium. Papers are shuffled, sheets passed back and forth between friends and strangers alike, and everyone is scrambling to gather her things and get to her assigned room. It is now 9:45, and I have told them to start their debates at 9:30.
By 9:50, the auditorium is empty, save for a few coats, backpacks, and crumpled Dunkin’ Donuts boxes. Season Four is officially underway.