“Is that your second Iced Mocha tonight, Anish?” I asked, eyes half-closed.
 
We had been up late, working for three hours by then, our compact desks covered by piles of dusty, thick law books checked out from the university library. The camp rules forced us to work in darkness past “lights out” at 12 A.M; the muffled clicks of our keyboards threatened to give us away. While we combed through books using only the light from our phones and looked for that one article that would win us rounds, our concentration put us into a self-induced stupor.

As the bright, white glow from Anish’s computer dimmed, I turned around in my chair to discover he had dozed off, his head propped up on his arm. Our work for tonight was done – temporarily. Exhausted, I roused Anish from his slumber, and crawled into bed myself, still fully dressed. As I drifted off to sleep, one last thought crossed my mind:
 
“Debate camp had just started, but all this is worth it for the camp tournament.”
 
This entire ordeal was called the Michigan Seven-Week Debate Program. The program fostered an environment of competition and scholarship among me and two hundred other campers. For forty-nine days, our routine was simple: wake up, eat, debate, sleep. We spent our days preparing in the library and in classrooms, where lab leaders from across the country with various awards and qualifications taught us how to win debates.

We squeezed every minute out of our days for debate. Even after the sun set over the campus, we still found ourselves trudging back, through the plazas and squares of the university, to lab after dinner for a measly hour of instruction. Anish and I continued this frenzy, even after our last lab session and late into the night.

The morning lectures at the Ross Business Hall were attended by sleep-deprived campers, dreaming about winning the camp tournament. It was not uncommon to see my fellow debaters slumped over in the cushioned seats of the Hall, just as Anish would during our late nights. Half-awake, the lecturer’s words went straight in one ear and out the other. This snapshot of us did not really represent us, though. Instead of taking it easy during our only free morning of the week, most stayed in their rooms, practicing and challenging themselves to speak quicker and clearer. We were all under the expectation that we ourselves, would become the top speakers, or the best researchers, albeit an impossibly tough goal.

I can still vividly remember the University library to this day. It was our second home on the campus, where we spent up to seven hours at a time. The bookshelves it contained would be a portal into a set of knowledge only accessible through the University - Freudian Psychoanalysis, immigration policies, economic figures, and theories of subjectivity – all key to winning debates.We most frequently found ourselves on the top floor of the library, where long, heavyset oak tables hosted our computers, books, and coffee. The natural light from the large glass windows and skylights illuminated our books and keyboards until dusk, when we would finally head back to the dorms.

In the library’s collaboration rooms, we practiced speaking and worked with the lab leaders. In particular, I found myself returning to Colin Roark, a debate coach at Trinity University and part-time unofficial comedian. Short and stout, with a lock of short, blonde hair, he inspired me to do my best. Invariably, his words were encouraging, full of praise along with constructive criticism. He would always say with a smile, “You’re doing great! Clearly, you’ve been putting in work and it shows, but there are still some areas you can fix up…”

Taking his words to heart, I strove to become the best debater I could. For the summer, our debate resolution was immigration to the U.S. Anish and I constantly strategized over the best plan we would propose in a debate; anything from admitting more immigrants for work visas to continuing Temporary Protected Status for refugees of disasters. We knew we would also have to argue the flip-side and negate the resolution. Instead of creating a proposal, we forced ourselves to look at our own plan and create a counter-strategy.
The knowledge from the library was the foundation of all of our strategies. We combed through the university’s collections to study the history of immigration to the U.S, economic figures regarding the movement of migrants and refugees, and even the literature behind settler colonialism. Our affirmation of the resolution always stayed the same, but our negation strategy frequently changed in accordance with the opposing team. Many hours were spent preparing pre-constructed answers to common affirmative positions, even our very own. As the date of the camp tournament slowly crawled toward us, we worked with determination and repeatedly practiced speaking, questioning, and researching.

The days flew by quickly, but time finally slowed down near the end as our monotonous schedule ceased. Three days before the end of camp, excited tension filled the air – it was finally time for the camp tournament: the final place to show off. We all woke up early, put on our best button-downs, and warmed up our vocal cords with speaking drills before our debates.

For those three days, our debates took center stage. Instead of the usual game of cards during our free time, we were feverishly checking the leaderboard and winning arguments in our heads. Anish and I won the first pairing, but our joy was short-lived. The first round was matched randomly, while the second was matched by record. Instead of the novice freshmen we encountered in the first round, we were greeted by a pair of rising seniors with many years of experience more than we did. Unlike our first, nervous opponents, they were clear and articulate. While they questioned our positions, we were more focused on not sounding completely unknowledgeable instead of defending our points and fighting back. By the final rebuttals, the round had been set. The result? Absolute, crushing defeat, leaving us shell shocked.

Our bad luck in our matchups just seemed to continue. The third round was a glimmer of hope; we were faced against a team from our lab, whom we had beaten before. In the next round, our dreams were quickly dashed however, once we were matched against a team who had qualified for the national debate “Tournament of Champions” multiple times over. Round five and six were not much better, with both rounds against higher level debaters from the Seniors program. At this point, we knew we had no chance of getting into double-octofinals, the lowest prerequisite for the championship after the elimination of most of the competition.

Although we had been eliminated, we continued to track the progress of the winners. Over the course of only a day, we watched the teams that beat us so easily quickly rise to the top of the bracket, culminating in one final debate at the Ross lecture hall that was spectated by over two hundred fifty campers and staff.

“Maybe that goal of winning the entire tournament in the face of all these debaters wasn’t so achievable,” I muttered to myself, as I watched the sheer skill the two teams demonstrated during the finals of the tournament. All four individuals could speak clearer, faster, and were better versed in their arguments than I was even close to in my debates. As the clock slowly ticked down, I could see everyone in the audience grow restless to hear the panel of judges’ verdict. Then it came: the final speech, the final timer ring of the summer, and a thunderous wave of applause signaled the end of our home for the past seven weeks.
 
The night of the finals, our lab group had one last meeting to say goodbyes and to give out “paper plate awards.” The lab leaders all individually selected a few campers to give awards, such as “Best Dressed” or “Funniest” – usually something sentimental to end camp with. Before revealing the award, the lab leader presenting it would give a brief and reflective speech about the recipient. So, shocked was I, when the most influential lab leader to me, Colin, stood up and began a speech dedicated to me:

“This camper came into camp eager to learn, and it had shown over our time together. His speeches have risen in both quality and persuasiveness. There’s really not much to say about it – you’ve all probably seen it in our lab. I hope this person will have a great rest of their debate career!”

Short but sweet, Colin’s speech and the award of “Most Improved” meant the world to me. Never mind that the award was scribbled on a cheap paper dinner plate; it gave me the sense that these weeks were a time for amazing personal growth. Leaving camp, I reflected on all of the priceless lessons I learned every single day for seven weeks. Although Anish and I fell completely short the shiny tournament trophy, our exposure to some of the top teams in the country proved to be more rewarding than any piece of cheap metal. Our late nights were not wasted; no, not by a long shot. I walked away from the university with a refined vision to become a champion. Yes, my naïve short-term dreams may have been pulverized, but my dream of becoming champion, maybe of my local county tournament or even later in the future the Tournament of Champions, is still firmly alive. As I believe Colin would say:
 
“There’s always going to be a bigger fish out there; but even if you get eaten, just punch it in the gut and keep fighting.”