Roast my PS, Part II: The Reckoning
Posted: Tue Jul 02, 2019 5:11 pm
Fellas, the first thread is here http://www.top-law-schools.com/forums/v ... #p10390736
The title says what to do. I did some soul-searching, tore down my old personal statement, and rebuilt it mostly from scratch in accordance with the great advice in that last thread, with more dynamism, no colons, and only one semicolon. This statement explains progressive debating accessibly (I hope), focuses more on my personal development, and avoids the question of 'why law.' I'm feeling good about it, but is that feeling justified? Let me know.
Also, apologies if this is too soon after the last one, idk what the required etiquette is. Here goes:
My debating career began, stereotypically, with an idolization of Atticus Finch and a love of performance. I imagined that my time would be spent delivering elegant speeches in the company of blazered politicians-to-be, each standing behind their own lectern, probably in an auditorium somewhere. Refreshments would be provided. What I did not then know, and what I would soon discover, was that debating would be the weirdest hobby I would adopt, and the one which would give me the courage to be different. It’s cliché, but true.
My two-year-old team, which had stuck to competitive speaking, was unable to provide training when I first joined. Determined to debate anyway, I consulted Wikipedia, a very reliable source, which in turn led me to R/Debating and Cross-X.com. I learned everything I could. Several weeks later I showed up to my first local competition, legal pad in hand, and proceeded to lose four rounds out of four. Although I had come to understand the structure and norms of competition well, and although I received complementary feedback on my presentation, it immediately became clear that I lacked the breadth of recent research available to competitors from more established programs.
So, I went back to the forums, where I discovered the K, or the argument from critical theory. First, the speaker contends that the topic, the language it contains, or some aspect of their opponent’s advocacy furthers an idea or tendency in the real world. Then, the furtherance of that idea or tendency is proven to be harmful. Finally, it is demonstrated that, by voting against the offending person or motion, whatever harms would otherwise occur will be prevented. Successfully using K’s would be beneficial for several reasons. They are tangential, and as a result can be applied to several topics per year, allowing a depth of research otherwise unavailable to an individual debater. They involve real world harms and are therefore more impactful than conventional arguments. Most importantly, their abstractness makes them difficult to predict, mitigating the efficacy of an opponent’s preparation, and thereby helping to level gaps in resources between schools.
That is not to say that using critical theory would be easy. K’s were developed at national competitions where jargon is expected and where speaking is rapid; convincing laypeople requires eloquence. All but the most important evidence would have to be culled, as would any jargon, and what remained would have to be technically sound and rhetorically effective. I buckled down. With hard work, a lot of feedback, and even more trial and error, I produced arguments that were unconventional without being inaccessible to ordinary people. In my fourth competition, I placed third. In my fifth, first. I soon qualified for nationals and, by the time of my graduation, simplified K’s had become common in my circuit.
I cannot say whether debating in the same way as everyone else would have eventually worked. What I do know is that treading the road less travelled was at least as effective as, and probably more fun than, the alternative. Debating unconventionally taught me to be curious, adaptable, and unafraid of thinking differently. In short, it gave me courage. Without that courage, I would not have committed to earning my bachelors abroad, and in English Law, before ever having left North America. I would not have been able to adapt, after arriving, to a manner of learning, writing, and thinking unlike anything I had previously experienced. And I certainly would not be applying to law school at the tender age of twenty. It is because of high school debating, as silly as it might have been, that I have become the person I am today. Law is a conservative profession, and no one in their right minds would prefer a creative lawyer to a sensible one. But in a period of increasing globalization, automation, and privatization of law, the need for attorneys capable of being both creative and sensible, of buckling down and of thinking forward, is greater than ever. I believe that my experiences have demonstrated the ability to live up to that standard.
The title says what to do. I did some soul-searching, tore down my old personal statement, and rebuilt it mostly from scratch in accordance with the great advice in that last thread, with more dynamism, no colons, and only one semicolon. This statement explains progressive debating accessibly (I hope), focuses more on my personal development, and avoids the question of 'why law.' I'm feeling good about it, but is that feeling justified? Let me know.
Also, apologies if this is too soon after the last one, idk what the required etiquette is. Here goes:
My debating career began, stereotypically, with an idolization of Atticus Finch and a love of performance. I imagined that my time would be spent delivering elegant speeches in the company of blazered politicians-to-be, each standing behind their own lectern, probably in an auditorium somewhere. Refreshments would be provided. What I did not then know, and what I would soon discover, was that debating would be the weirdest hobby I would adopt, and the one which would give me the courage to be different. It’s cliché, but true.
My two-year-old team, which had stuck to competitive speaking, was unable to provide training when I first joined. Determined to debate anyway, I consulted Wikipedia, a very reliable source, which in turn led me to R/Debating and Cross-X.com. I learned everything I could. Several weeks later I showed up to my first local competition, legal pad in hand, and proceeded to lose four rounds out of four. Although I had come to understand the structure and norms of competition well, and although I received complementary feedback on my presentation, it immediately became clear that I lacked the breadth of recent research available to competitors from more established programs.
So, I went back to the forums, where I discovered the K, or the argument from critical theory. First, the speaker contends that the topic, the language it contains, or some aspect of their opponent’s advocacy furthers an idea or tendency in the real world. Then, the furtherance of that idea or tendency is proven to be harmful. Finally, it is demonstrated that, by voting against the offending person or motion, whatever harms would otherwise occur will be prevented. Successfully using K’s would be beneficial for several reasons. They are tangential, and as a result can be applied to several topics per year, allowing a depth of research otherwise unavailable to an individual debater. They involve real world harms and are therefore more impactful than conventional arguments. Most importantly, their abstractness makes them difficult to predict, mitigating the efficacy of an opponent’s preparation, and thereby helping to level gaps in resources between schools.
That is not to say that using critical theory would be easy. K’s were developed at national competitions where jargon is expected and where speaking is rapid; convincing laypeople requires eloquence. All but the most important evidence would have to be culled, as would any jargon, and what remained would have to be technically sound and rhetorically effective. I buckled down. With hard work, a lot of feedback, and even more trial and error, I produced arguments that were unconventional without being inaccessible to ordinary people. In my fourth competition, I placed third. In my fifth, first. I soon qualified for nationals and, by the time of my graduation, simplified K’s had become common in my circuit.
I cannot say whether debating in the same way as everyone else would have eventually worked. What I do know is that treading the road less travelled was at least as effective as, and probably more fun than, the alternative. Debating unconventionally taught me to be curious, adaptable, and unafraid of thinking differently. In short, it gave me courage. Without that courage, I would not have committed to earning my bachelors abroad, and in English Law, before ever having left North America. I would not have been able to adapt, after arriving, to a manner of learning, writing, and thinking unlike anything I had previously experienced. And I certainly would not be applying to law school at the tender age of twenty. It is because of high school debating, as silly as it might have been, that I have become the person I am today. Law is a conservative profession, and no one in their right minds would prefer a creative lawyer to a sensible one. But in a period of increasing globalization, automation, and privatization of law, the need for attorneys capable of being both creative and sensible, of buckling down and of thinking forward, is greater than ever. I believe that my experiences have demonstrated the ability to live up to that standard.
