And I Won't Run Away, 'Cause I'm Already Home. [a place that changed me]

It probably takes a complete speech and debate nerd to say that a university campus has changed them. And if so, call me a nerd, because Concordia University has changed me more than most places.

I guess it's not so much the place itself as what has gone on there. But looking back at the past two and a half years, I can see more changes taking place in me at this campus than nearly anywhere else. I've been there five times, and each visit has resulted in some new change for me.

I can remember the first time I stepped foot on that campus far too clearly. January fifteenth, 2009. I was wearing a light blue shirt, a pinstriped suit, awkward high heels, and my heart was pounding hard. I had just stepped into the first morning of my very first tournament. To me, it looked like there were about five billion kids, all in suits, carrying bags, laughing, talking, praying, hugging -- and I was so lost. As my stomach took acrobatics to a whole new level, my feet screamed out against the pain of my dress shoes, and my entire head spun, both from nerves and the approximated two hours of sleep I had managed the night before. As I looked at the swarm of kids who knew exactly what they were doing, I suddenly felt pathetic in my twelve-year-old frame with my American Girl backpack and completely oblivious mind. At that moment, I was sure that every single experienced student on the campus could sense my fear, my nerves, my awkwardness, my bewilderment, and every other feeling swirling through my body at the moment. Now, as I'm finishing up my third year of speech and debate, I can look back and say...yes, they definitely knew I was a poor little girl at my first tournament.

In the end, though, I'm glad that everyone could tell I was fresh meat because that is part of what changed me at the tournament. My first day, I wandered around aimlessly, trying to find my way across the campus, figure out the schedule, avoid the swarms of walking black suits, keep myself out of awkward conversations, and stick by someone from my club who already knew what they were doing. Much to my surprise, though, I quickly became accustomed to the way of friendship making at tournaments. It's amazing the way kids get to know each other here. You can strike up a conversation with a total stranger, and within minutes, you'll be close friends. I had always been shy, but always loved people, and this tournament became a huge part in the process of breaking me out of my shell and enhancing my ability to talk and be with others. The amount of friendliness here was enough to cover up the internal devastation I felt when I saw my poor rankings and many failures. My first visit at Concordia was one of mixed emotions that left me with a punch of humbleness and a very touched and more outgoing heart.

My next visit was that summer for my first debate camp. After spending the entire spring sitting in on debate meetings, watching rounds, teaching myself to flow, reading theory articles, researching, getting myself acquainted with all the best teams, and everything else I could figure out without actually being a debater...I thought the novice track would be a complete breeze. I was wrong. And had my pride knocked down quite a notch when I lost the large majority of my debate rounds at the camp's tournament. Despite my deep drop in motivation, though, my ambitions in debate soared. I ended up talking to one of the coaches of the camp and of forensics at Concordia on the last day of camp. Knowing how discouraged I was, he took the time to talk to me, tell me about all the opportunities I had in debate, and push me to get through the season and continue with this event because he thought I could excel at it. Nearly two years later, I can definitely say that I am very glad I listened to his advice instead of my record.

Beyond debate itself, the whole week was a changing period for my emotional life. I spent the whole time with a group of friends that teased me incessantly, corrupted a fair portion of my innocence, and made me admittedly mad one night. One of those friends, still being my best friends to this day...oh, he'll never let me live that down. But no matter how frustrated I was that night, I wouldn't want him to stop teasing me about that time whenever he gets the chance because looking back, I can laugh at the moment. That's something camp taught me to do that summer--it taught me to laugh at mistakes made with friends and enjoy the moments of happiness in between. They might not last forever, but the memories will if you let them.

My next trip to Concordia was probably the least memorable of them all. It was the first tournament of my second year of speech, and my first tournament every doing debate. I remember winning novice impromptu and being totally thrilled. I also remember the constant teasing for this. But most of all, I remember being so thrilled that I didn't care about the teasing. I also remember enjoying myself immensely with debate. The last round my partner and I had there is still, to this days, one of my favorite rounds that I've ever had. We had no idea what we were talking about, but it was incredibly fun. Beyond that, my favorite part was probably walking around like I knew what I was doing because I was no longer the novice and was therefore superior to a large portion of the competitors. Overall, this visit made me more comfortable with myself as a speaker and debater, and as a person.

August 2010 held my fourth visit. This was definitely the most...miserable. Life had been a struggle and I really did not want to spend a week with a hundred people, listening to lectures all day long, eating cafeteria food, waking up too early, going to sleep too late, and pretending to care. I enjoyed partnering with my brother for the first time. I loved some of the lectures. I enjoyed spending time with a few good friends. But for the most part, I remember sitting on the floor by myself, avoiding people, writing songs instead of listening to lectures, barely dragging myself out of bed in the morning, and simply wishing I could go home every single minute.

Yet, looking back, I wouldn't have taken back that week of camp for all it was worth. Because, as I have learned overtime, our pain makes us stronger, more capable, and more beautiful. As I was dwelling in my own pain, memories, frustrating, and exhaustion that week, I was walking through the fire and ashes that helped lead me into a renewed person and debater. Even though I spent most of the week in complete and utter loneliness, it was an important unpleasant experience to build me up for the next time I hurt.

And, of course, I can't forget my most recent visit. My first tournament this year, in January 2011. I had so much fun. I got to spend time with a bunch of wonderful friends, meet new ones, and take on an entirely new tournament persona. I got to encourage novices, watch the new speakers from my club, and cheer on my own friends when they did well without any of my previous fear of competition. I had no nerves at this tournament and it felt wonderful. I did fairly well in all four of my speeches and was delighted to find my new favorite speech--and discover that it is apparently my best speech. My brother and I were disappointed to not advance in debate, but we still received a winning record and had so much fun debating with each other.

Overall, this tournament introduced me to the experience of having fun at a tournament. I wasn't focusing on competition. I wasn't focusing on other things clouding my "normal" life. I was enjoying myself, trying out new things, becoming more outgoing, experimenting with debate techniques, enjoying myself, and renewing my adoration of this crazy life experience we call speech and debate.

Over the past three years, I have changed dramatically at Concordia University. Some changes were painful, some were full of smiles. But when I go there again in August, I'll be ready for a new experience, new friends, and new changes that lead me closer to whoever I am supposed to be.