“Welcome to the Debate Club,” Colonel Randall told the students who had gathered into his speech classroom that afternoon after school.
The Colonel was a retired military officer who had gone into teaching. The school knew little of his war time experiences. He did not talk of them. But he must have been injured, because he carried a cane and walked with a limped.
There was a quiet dignity to Colonel Randall. It was obvious that he was used to command. And when he did, he did it with a fairness, and kindness that was indicative to a truly great person. He was respected as well as obeyed. And a person was always better for heeding him.
Even the popular
students at
The Colonel was of medium height, a slender man with graying hair. He stood ramrod straight. He had a beaked nose. And eyes that could stare right through a person, and install fear – if necessary.
He had once stopped a ruckus in the cafeteria – on Fish Stick Friday - by the slight raising of an eyebrow, and the shifting of his cane from parade rest to bear arms.
No one knew exactly what he could do with that cane, if he were called upon to use it. But nobody wanted to find out.
Colonel Randall was a natty dresser. He wore double-breasted suits with striped ties and matching kerchiefs, and two-toned shoes. The shoes were always polished.
The Colonel was a keen judge of character. And Emily and Howie were two of his favorite students.
They both were seated in the middle of the four people in front row. Two others sat one row back.
The Speech classroom was in a bungalow just like the math bungalow, only on the opposite side of the campus. At the front of the class sat a podium, where the students stood to give their presentations. Along the walls were hung mirrors so that the students could watch and evaluate their own presentations from all sides. Various signs posted above the mirrors, stressing appropriate vocabulary, word pronunciation, and posture. At the far end of the room, hung an especially large sign denouncing any type of slang or foul language.
The number of students there that afternoon wanting to join the debate class was small. It was a spring afternoon in Midwestern Ohio – and most students had other things that they would rather be doing. Emily Hinton was among of them.
There had been a brief popularity in debating just after that last Presidential Debates. They were the first ever broadcast live on network TV. And, for a time, students had enjoyed imitating one or the other of the candidates. Then the space program became the big interest among the high school students. The president had committed the nation to landing a man on the moon by the end of the decade. It was early in the program. It was only two years since Alan Shepard had become the first American in space. And was only one year ago that John Glenn orbited the earth three times.
Interest in debate clubs had slacked off to those who were truly interested in debating – and those who were coerced by the truly interested. Emily glared at Howie.
Seated on the far side of Emily was “Ears” Malloy – or has he was known to his mother - Earl Malloy. Emily told herself that she had to think of him as Earl. The rest of the world called him Ears because those inestimable objects stood straight out at angles to rest of his face. He always wore pocket protectors. Someday, Emily was afraid that she was going to slip and call him Ears. She tried not to do that even though everyone she knew – except his mother - called him Ears to his face.
Ears was not believing his luck. He was sitting next to Emily Hinton. She was the nicest girl in school and the prettiest to his taste. Others could like that dark haired Karen Switzer if they wanted to, but Emily Hinton was the class act of the school. She was so petite and had that beautiful strawberry blonde hair. He bet that it smelled nice. He leaned towards her sniffed, tentatively.
Emily heard Earl sniff and wondered if he might have a cold. She bet that he could lose a lot of body heat through those ears.
Would Emily Hinton dance with him, Ears wondered, if he asked her? Who was she going to the prom with? He would ask her himself, if only he knew how to dance. How wonderful it would be to hold her in his arms and twirl her around the floor. He imagined just how it would be – with her in a beautiful prom dress and he wearing his best pocket protector.
Ears appreciated that Emily never mentioned his ears. She doesn’t even notice them, he thought to himself. He turned his head to the side to check out his reflection in one of the classroom mirrors. From that angle, he wasn’t bad looking, he thought. And his hair was cut just like an athlete.
Emily could not help sneaking a quick peek at Earl’s ears when he turned his head. He looked just like Howie had, when she had taped cotton balls behind his ears. Maybe, it would help if he wore his hair longer – like the surfers out in California were doing. And he should get rid of those pocket protectors.
Early in the decade of the sixties, there were three common hairstyles for boys. There was the greased look left over from the fifties, the crew cut of the athlete, and the sun dried look of the surfers. The surfer style was becoming common. The Beach Boys were a popular musical group among teenagers.
Like Howie, Ears was a redhead, but the crew cut he wore left his ears open to the unobstructed view of the entire school. Ears was short. He was only a few inches taller than Emily was.
Despite his hair cut, Ears was not an athlete. His game was chess. He was the president of the Chess Club. Although intelligent, he was not a natural for the Debate Club. He spoke with a slight stutter. He was there to improve his speech. And he was there because he heard the Debate Club was the club with the best looking girls – which, also, let chess players in. And he hoped to benefit from that.
So far, so good! He moved his chair a little closer to Emily.
“I am sure that you all will greatly benefit from learning the art of debate,” Colonel Randall informed them.
Suddenly, the two students in the next row got up, collected their books, and left the classroom. As they were leaving, one of them said to the other, “I would not have come if I had known that debating was an art. I am terrible at drawing.”
The Club was now down to just four people in the front row – two boys and two girls.
“You will learn discipline and organization,” the Colonel continued, “And the ability to persuade people. It will give you courage to speak in front of vast audiences.”
Karen Switzer, an intelligent and beautiful brunette, who was new to the school, was the other girl besides Emily. She was sitting at the other end of the row next to Howie. She sighed. Maybe she could learn something here. She was doing a lot of arguing with her boyfriend, Butch Pratt, who was from back in Cornville. But nobody was being convinced. It was hard to maintain a long distance relationship. Butch went to Cornville High School. He was on the Cornville baseball team that played against Howie and Emily.
Karen had been hoping that she and Butch could attend college together - where they could date again. But Butch informed Karen that he was not going to college. He was going to join the Marines. The President was beginning to send observers to a small conflict in some Asian country called Vietnam. Butch wanted to go and he felt that, if he waited even for a year, the conflict might be over before he got there.
Butch was immune to her worries about him getting hurt, or worse, in some far off land. He said that, if she was his girlfriend, it was her obligation to support him – no matter what he did.
That did not sit well with Karen. And she was thinking of getting a boyfriend that cared how she felt.
Perhaps she should start dating boys here at Binnington. The trouble was that most boys were too intimidated by her looks and intelligence to ask her out. She did not even have a date to the prom – either here or in Cornville.
She looked over at Howie. He was nice. And he was not intimated by her. He did not even notice her, except as a rival for Class Valedictorian. Should she date him? She wondered.
No, she sighed. Howie Throckmorton was sure nice, but any fool could see that Emily Hinton was his girlfriend.
I think Emily likes me, decided Ears. And it doesn’t look like she has a boyfriend.
He glanced in the mirror, again, turning his head at different angles. And he noticed that Emily was watching him. She is interested in me, he thought. Maybe he would ask her to the prom – even though he could not dance. They could spend the evening teaching her chess, he decided.
It was a pity, Emily thought, that nothing could be done about poor Earl’s ears.
Colonel Randall was saying, “To be an effective speaker, you have to learn to see and hear yourself as other people see and hear you. You must stand outside of yourself and observe from a distance.”
“Tape would do it,” Emily suddenly blurted out. Ears – er Earl - could hold his ears down with tape. And if he wore his hair longer, maybe no one would even notice the tape. She wondered if those things ever got sunburned?
“You are right, Emily,” Colonel Randall smiled. “Tape is exactly what we will use.
WHAT? Had she spoken out loud? Was Colonel Randall really going to tape down Earl’s ears?
“We will tape all of your presentations, and then analyze them to improve your skills.”
He limped slowly to a closet and leaned inside. He emerged carrying a dusty reel-to-reel tape machine, a black bag, and a microphone stand.
Karen raised her hand. “Colonel Randall, I have always heard that arguing was wrong. Isn’t it?” At least it felt wrong when she and Butch did it.
“Good question, Karen. What do you mean by arguing?” He asked as he set the tape machine on his desk and the stand by the podium.
Karen replied, “I think it’s like when you fight with your boyfriend – I mean anyone – who doesn’t understand you and always thinks that you are wrong, but he doesn’t give you good reasons why. He just talks louder to make you believe him or just agree with him so that he will stop.”
Colonel Randall smiled as he pulled an ancient microphone and its cord from bag and screwed it onto the stand. “No, that is not really what it is, Karen. Arguing doesn’t have to mean fighting or even disagreeing. It is better define as ‘a calm, logical discussion where all the facts are examined and people eventually agree on an outcome.”
“Howie, could you plug in the recorder for me?” He asked Howie.
He continued. “The art of debating is learning how to present – or argue – your side convincingly with logic and learning how to listen to the other side so that you can convincingly answer their arguments. There does not need be any emotion in it.”
“I like that!” said Howie, as he straightened up from plugging the machine in and sat back down. “It would be wonderful to convince your family that you were right without it – always - becoming emotional.” Howie’s family of salespeople was highly emotional.
“I LIKE EMOTION,” Emily jumped in. “If you are passionate about something, what should you not be emotional.”
All right! Ears thought. I think that Emily likes me and she admits that she is passionate. What more can a guy ask for?
Colonel Randall attached the microphone cord into the tape machine. Then he paused for a moment. He picked up his cane and limped over to the students. He got right in front of Emily. He rapped on her desk with his cane.
The room became quiet.
“You know,” he said looking right in Emily’s face, “I really HATE people with blonde hair – especially strawberry blondes! I think people with blonde hair are just awfully people. Now, dark headed people are nice and redheaded people are intelligent, but blonde hair people are just plain dull and boring.”
“What?” Gasped Emily. She was shaken. She had never been hated before.
Karen, Ears gasped and just sat there with their mouths gaping wide open
Howie, however, rose out of his chair compelled by some unexplainable need to protect Emily.
“You’re wrong!” he shouted.
And the room grew even quieter. No one had dared confront Colonel Randall before.
Howie continued. “Blonde hair IS nice. So is Emily. And she is not boring.” In the interest of fairness, he added. “She – moody, unpredictable, irritating, and stubborn, maybe. But boring - never!”
“Hey!” Said Emily.
Howie stood there with his fists clenched. His chest was heaving with anger and some other unnamed emotions.
The class sat in fear.
Colonel Randall smiled and said. “I got you! Well class, how did you like me - and Howie – reacting emotionally, instead of logically, about blonde hair?”
Emily did not know about the rest of the students, but she kind of liked it – at least the part where Howie was defending her.
“Oh!” said Howie; “you were tricking me.” And he sat back down – feeling a little foolish. But, around Emily, that was getting to be a common emotion.
“No, I was teaching you…two things, “ replied Colonel Randall. “One is that emotions can be wrong. And two is that arguing is better when it is done by logical examining the facts rather than by reacting emotionally to events or to people.”
“Wow!” Howie was impressed.
Emily was not convinced. But she was willing to listen –especially if Howie was going to act like that, again.
“Isn’t there a place for emotion in this world?” She asked. “What about love?”
“What is a logical argument?” asked Karen.
“That’s a good question,” replied the Colonel. “There are two ways to argue logically. One is with deductive logic and the other is with inductive logic.”
“It sounds like Sherlock Holmes,” said Ears - who quoted, “’It’s elementary, my dear Watson – it’s a simple matter of deduction.’”
“That’s right, Ears – er, I mean Earl," said Colonel Randall. “And a deductive argument is usually called a “syllogism”. A syllogism comes in three parts. It contains two premises and it ends with a conclusion. It goes like this:”
First, the major premise - ‘All dogs have four legs.’
Second, the minor premise – ‘Rover is a dog.’
Third, the conclusion – in this case it is that ‘Rover has four legs.’
“Simple, isn’t it?”
Emily wasn’t sure. She thought that she had once heard Mr. Throckmorton tell a story about a three-legged dog named ‘Lucky.’
“Now, can any one give me a syllogism? In the spirit of competition let’s have the boys make up one about the girls.”
“Let me try,” said Ears
“Strong is better than weak.
Boys are stronger than girls are.
So boys are better than girls are.”
“That’s sounds good to me!” laughed Howie.
“What?” Humphed Emily. “Let me try.”
“All pests should be eliminated.
All boys are pests.
So all boys should be eliminated.”
Karen Switzer giggled. “Wait, I’ve got one.”
Suddenly, Emily felt at one with Karen. Either it was that ‘Zen’ thing again or just plain old girls against the boys.
Colonel Randall knew he had to stop it or the boys would not have a chance.
“OK, hold it,” laughed Colonel Randall. “We don’t want to start a war here. But I think you all see that debating can be fun.”
“But Colonel Randall,” interjected Emily. “You said that there were two ways to argue. What is inductive logic?”
“Good question,” said the colonel. “Inductive logic is what scientists use. They observe something and predict conclusions based on what they see.”
Emily looked at him quizzically.
“OK, Emily, do you think the sun is going to come up tomorrow?”
“Yes,” said Emily.
“Why?”
“Well, because it always has.”
“Can you prove it?”
“I can if you are willing to wait a day.”
The colonel laughed. “You can’t ask debate judges to wait a day to prove an argument. So, you use inductive logic. You cannot prove absolutely that the sun will come up tomorrow. But you can argue that it probably will because it always has.”
“Oh,” said Emily. “I like that. I could argue ‘probably’ all day long.”
Howie, who had been subjected to many of Emily’s all-day arguments, had to agree with that.
“Our time is almost up for this afternoon. Let me tell you how we conduct a debate and then I’ll assign our first teams and we will call it a day.”
Colonel Randall handed out sheets of mimeographed paper with instructions. “This is how we debate.”
“First, we pick a subject.”
“Second, we pick two teams - one team argues for the subject and the other argues against it.”
“Third, each team selects one person to open its case.”
“Fourth, each team then has a chance to cross examine the other team.”
“Fifth and last, each team gives a closing argument.”
“Then the Judges decide a winner based on points.”
“That is just like in my dad’s court room,” said Emily. “He is a judge.”
“That’s right,” replied Colonel Randall. Debating often occurs in a court of law and lawyers are among the best debaters in the world.”
“Now, are there any other questions?” Colonel Randall looked around. “No, then lets select teams.”
Karen and Ears looked hopefully at Howie and Emily.
Emily grabbed Howie’s hand so that everyone would know that they were a couple… er…team. ‘Pals’, she sniffed remembered that Howie had called her a pal when he thanked her for joining the club with him. They WERE a couple – what did being pals have to do with anything.
“Sorry, but I will pick the teams this first time,” said Colonel Randall smiling at Emily, “and since it worked so well a few minute ago, this first time it will be the boys against the girls.”
“The
topic,” said Colonel Randall, “will be the dropping of the atomic bomb - should
it have been used against Japan in World War II. Howie and Ears – er Earl, you take the
affirmative – you argue that it was right to drop the bomb; and Emily and
Karen, you take the negative – you argue that it was wrong.”