Transcriber: Angelina Zhou Reviewer: David DeRuwe
We’ve all heard the phrase: “Try something new. You might like it.”
Oftentimes, people try activities once and never do them again.
They might have tried that activity,
but they never actually got the full experience.
Doing that thing once is always better than never doing it at all,
but a singular negative experience can prevent people from ever trying it again.
Trying new things is really hard;
even the simplest of activities such as trying a new vegetable
was a struggle that most of us had as children.
For example, public speaking:
According to the National Institutes for Mental Health,
75% of people are more afraid of public speaking than dying.
And I think the reason why people are so afraid
is simply because they don’t do it too often.
This is kind of a death spiral, in my opinion.
I’m afraid of it, so I’m more afraid of it, so I don’t want to do it
and bam, a death spiral.
A couple months ago, we were returning
to in-person classes and clubs after a year of online.
One of these classes was debate class,
and in the brightly-lit first debate room, you could hear the excitement in the air,
the low murmur of students ready to debate.
We were told our motion, given time to prepare,
and then assigned our next rooms.
There were big couches, soft lighting, and plaids everywhere.
The place felt comfy.
Now, I had dragged one of my friends, Jamie,
into this club as well, as I wanted to spread the joy of debate.
Now, Jamie was a very quiet, calm, and meek person,
but Jamie also realized that being too quiet
and not participating in class would tank his English participation mark,
and therefore, he joined the club to try to fix that.
Now I had participated in this club online as well,
but doing it in person was way more thrilling.
Debating to a live audience was way more exciting to me
than debating to a bunch of heads on Zoom.
There were no camera off or mute buttons.
It’s a fuller experience.
We had just entered the second debate room,
and much to Jamie’s dismay, it was not as bright or as cosy as the first one.
The harsh fluorescent lights and linearly-placed tables
and black chairs were reminiscent of a prison.
While in the first room as we figured out what we were doing,
the second room is where we actually did it.
This was where the debate happened, and it was time to begin.
Since Jamie hadn't debated in the past, I went up first to speak.
He looked nervous, but I didn’t think much of it at the time.
Everyone gets nervous, right?
He’ll kill it.
So I walked up to the podium and gave my speech.
It was an amazing feeling.
Every logical link I made was strong, and everything was perfect.
I had set Jamie up perfectly.
Jamie walked up to the podium, paper in hand,
but I realized that something was wrong.
Jamie began to shake, and his face was growing redder by the second,
and all of a sudden, he started bawling and mumbling.
“I’m not comfortable. I don’t want to do it.”
He had to be escorted out of the room by a fellow student.
Here’s the thing, I couldn’t follow Jamie out because if I had left,
the entire debate would be put on pause,
and it was essentially protocol that I stayed behind and gave my speech.
I felt terrible,
but all I could do was sit there and watch as Jamie left the room.
This brought me back to my first debate experience.
At 11 years old, I went to a debate camp near my home in Calgary.
It was a debate camp with over 400 people,
most of whom seemed to know how to debate.
However, I barely knew what debate even was.
The vocabulary they used was so complex and confusing, and honestly,
the debate format is the strangest thing.
I remember this moment where I was walking up to the podium,
and the judge shot me a condescending look,
and standing on the podium, it was like I had some sort of superpower:
I could hear the whispers on the far side of the room,
I could notice every detail on the legible notes I had written,
and of course, my inability to speak was more prevalent than ever.
All this pressure was way too much for me,
and I broke down in tears and ran out of the room.
I told the camp organizer I couldn’t do it anymore,
and I quit the tournament partway through.
Unfortunately for me, my parents had the impression that debate
was an excellent resume boost
and therefore bribed me with food to join the club at school,
and upon doing debate a second time,
I didn’t hear the whispers, nor did I notice my legible handwriting,
and it wasn’t as overwhelming, albeit it was still stressful.
I needed the second time to truly realize what debate was about,
that it was no longer an activity that I had dreaded.
I realized that just because my first experience wasn’t good
didn’t mean that the activity as a whole was bad.
I met so many new people, learned so much
from an activity that I had dreaded in the past.
Anyway, back to Jamie, here’s the thing: Jamie couldn’t quit debate.
Once you signed up, you were stuck there for six months,
just like any other class.
After the debate, I comforted Jamie.
I told him the first time was the worst time
and it would get way better from here on out.
Next week went by, Jamie went to the podium again,
and I could tell that he was more confident than before.
We were all super-supportive,
and the teacher gave him a rundown of how debate actually worked.
But the biggest difference I could tell
was that Jamie had time to process what he needed to do,
and this time he didn’t start bawling, he didn’t turn red.
Sure, he was nervous, but he spoke.
It wasn’t perfect, but it was a huge improvement from last week,
and more importantly, I could tell that he was enjoying this activity
a lot more than the first time.
If Jamie had only come to debate once,
he wouldn’t have gotten the ability to come back better,
to work through these challenges.
I look back at this moment
and appreciate Jamie’s bravery through trying new things twice
and through persevering through these hardships.
I got over my initial fear of debate by trying twice,
the first being a debate camp and the second being at school.
Oftentimes, you don't try new things
because we’re too overwhelmed with everything else going on.
The second time is the first time we actually get to try an activity.
If Jamie had only come to debate once, he wouldn’t have gotten the opportunity
to work through the challenges, to truly process, and experience debate.
But not only does this apply to debate,
this applies to any activity that people find new and scary.
For example, a while back, I signed myself up for a science fair,
and to say that it was a terrible experience is an understatement:
I put off the project last minute, I didn’t organize my time,
the motion was bland, and I didn’t even show up to the actual competition
because I was too overwhelmed.
But remembering how Jamie tried twice,
I signed up for the science fair again this year,
and this time I was able to organize my time, and I actually showed up
because I wasn’t as overwhelmed.
And as a result, I got a silver medal.
We can all learn from trying new things twice.
So I challenge you, the next time, try a new vegetable, go skydiving,
horseback riding, or speaking,
and think that it was the worst experience of your life,
or that it didn’t go as well as you wanted, or even if it went perfectly,
to try it one more time because you never know if you’re going to find something
that you love just because you tried it twice.
(Applause)