Picture it with me. You are sitting in the freezing kitchen of your vastly overpriced student accommodation. Your newly acquired electric blanket (thank you, Santa) is doing nothing to ward off the chilling horror of an impending semester. More assignments. More quizzes. More Fridays spent milling in the general vicinity of the Pav, never strong enough to withhold from an eight euro pint. The tourists are gearing up for another season of hogging the bathrooms of literally every building ever, and you just can’t face another term of this torture.
Who do you turn to? Where do you go? What activity can let you simultaneously shed the horrors of the day and feed that deflated ego? Fear not, guys, because I was in your shoes last term, and I have a shocking answer: collegiate debating.
The Graduates Memorial Building (GMB) stands as a terrifying abyss in the centre of campus, a place reserved for freshers to get lost in while looking for society events, never to be seen again. It is also home to chamber debates every week, hosted by the University Philosophical Society (the Phil) and the College Historical Society (the Hist). Every year, both societies host a beginners’ debating competition during Michaelmas term, aimed at luring new debaters into their grasp.
This, of course, was how I found myself sitting in the Phil Committee Room on a Friday afternoon, feeling ancient amongst the bright-eyed bushy-tailed faces of the freshers surrounding me. The motion was “This House Has No Faith In Violent Political Protest” (a lovely lighthearted topic for my debating debut), and on my laptop sat an incredibly mediocre speech that had been finalised about five minutes beforehand. The issue was this: I can’t speak publicly. During secondary school, I was more inclined to sink into the floor of the classroom than stand up and speak in front of a group of fifteen-year-olds. I discovered that my nerves prevented me from being able to breathe normally, which would result in the class and I staring at each other in awkward silence before I inevitably slinked back to my chair in abject humiliation. You can imagine why the wonders of chatting away in a chamber debate didn’t immediately appeal to me.
However, I had made myself a promise going into this academic year: I was going to sidequest like never before. So, when I saw the Maiden’s sign-up form advertised during the Fresher’s Fair, I had no choice but to lock in and force myself up to the podium. In all honesty, I was expecting a repeat of my teenage years. Instead, I opened my mouth, put on my most obnoxiously self-confident voice, and began yapping. My laptop froze at the halfway mark during my speech, causing an intense internal debate as to whether I should bravely attempt some improv, or drop out of college for the foreseeable future. With the help of hand gestures so enthusiastic they appeared slightly violent, and what I can only assume were pity laughs, I persevered. After the round was over, we were given individual feedback by the Maidens committee, which thankfully erred more on the side of constructive than humbling.
Now, while you might never see me somersaulting across the Chamber while proposing that This House Would Tear Down the Arts Block Stairs (the strange exterior ones, of course), I stepped out of Front Gate that afternoon feeling surprisingly positive. Debating, I absolutely loathe to admit, is actually quite fun. If you’ve come away from this tale of triumph with a newfound sense of inspiration, good news! A little birdy (my Instagram recommended) has told me that The Philosophical Society has another introductory debating competition running during Hilary Term, Becky’s. If you’re longing for something to distract from the growing list of ignored readings that I know you have, come check it out!
