One of the finest ways to spend a Sunday afternoon is drinking coffee and eating cake, to say nothing of getting a Tim Hortons [sic] gift card to boot. I came away from a certain event recently feeling quite fed up, you might say, and looking forward to more of the same sweets and coffee some day.
It was the previous two hour's worth of work that provided the basis for that booty.
The reason? Owing to an innocent answer to a desperate question, I became a judge at a recent 4-H Speaking Competition. I was shrewd enough (my version) to choose to be the judge of those fifteen years and older, in the “impromptu” speech track.
I selected well, as the nervous 4-H'ers spoke for an average of 40 seconds each, when given a minute to prepare for a topic they had little time to prepare for. I honestly didn't think teenagers could be so brief when it came to talking. I wish my kids' cell phone bill would reflect that.
I have never been a judge before. Well, slight correction: I have been a judge many times before; after all, I am a dad, a teacher, an editor, and an occasional umpire at a slo-pitch tournament. But I have never been a judge at a speaking contest before.
The criteria was set before me, so it was pretty basic and self-explanatory. Funny though, by the time I worked my way through the list of things to look for, per speech, it was over. They barely started with “hello” before they said “good-bye.” And even then, a few didn't even get that far.
The topics they chose were a little tough, so maybe that was why they could hardly muster even a white lie. Some of them ranged from “Why going to a 4-H summer camp would be fun,” to “Why principals should give students the day off for their birthday.” Just for effect, I would have chosen one that would have created a little emotion. It would be a guarantee to get every judge right here (as I motion my fist towards my heart).
Had I any say, and I didn't and don't want to (at least this year), I would have suggested any one of the following: “Why kids should get their driver's license at 13.” Or, “Free university for all.” And maybe even this one: “No more formal school after grade 9.”
That would have gotten this judge right here (again, motioning towards my heart—or would that be my stomach?).
Witty statements such as the ones above (or at least my attempt at such) are fodder for a veteran mind and quick lip such as mine. I would thrive on doing an impromptu speech with such limited preparation. Always have, and I trust I always will.
But I wonder how beneficial it is for a fourteen-year-old to extol the virtues of things so seemingly irrelevant to his or her life? A judge in another room that day marveled at a girl who went well passed her time, as she rambled on about the joys of being a pest to her brother. Now we're talking, you might say.
I haven't answered my question yet, the one about the benefits of talking about seemingly irrelevant topics. The short answer is, Yes; the long answer is, Yes, Yes. (I know I've used that line just recently, and it was funny back then, too.)
You see, in a culture of push button information, of having the world at one's fingertips and clicker, of being dumbed-down on a daily basis, this sort of exercise is good. Not only good, but healthy, necessary, and useful.
Whether the kids can explain which is “the most useful piece of equipment on the farm,” or “why we need the SPCA,” is important, but it's really just a starting point. What's really important is the fact that they can stand up, speak up, then shut up. Those are timeless qualities we all need, at any stage of life.
In the afore-mentioned speeches, they greeted everyone formally, attempted to follow a logical progression in their delivery, and chose their words carefully. Nothing wrong with basic elocution skills like that, is there? In fact, it's something that I would be willing to judge next year, if that desperate question comes my way again.
Actually, I would probably be happy to do it, free food and gift card or not.
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