Just kidding. Working with a black book looks scarier than it really is.

Have you ever watched a sitcom where there's a class assignment that requires two OBVIOUSLY incompatible people to take joint responsibility in caring for an inanimate object like it was a baby? They're all like, "Whaaat? This is ridiculous. I don't want to carry around this sack of flour!" But they misplace the bag of flour and then they're all like, "Oh noes! I totes need that to do well!" Then they kinda, sorta, accidentally enjoy taking care of the bag of flour. It becomes their "bay-bay" not in the literal sense, but in a "I have a newly found respect for what this inanimate object comes to represent."

This is what the black book is for college interpers. Instead of a flour sack, you find yourself tasked with carrying around a black binder. At first you think, "This is ridiculous! I can barely move one of my arms! I need that arm to reach all of my #feeeelings!" But you pretty much have to carry it around because the manuscript is required in college interp and the binder (although a norm and not technically a rule) is pretty much expected.

One day you go to a coaching session, but you forget your binder in your room and you start to try to run through your performance but...but...you can't. Someone tries to hand you a different binder, but it just feels wrong. Then you realize that like it or not...you've grown attached that three ring lump of vinyl and cardboard. It's yo "bay-bay."

To compare college and high school interp as "similar but different" is vague, frustrating, and kind of accurate. Yes, there are characters, intros, and #feeeelings, but the college circuit tends to reward more nuanced and subdued performances. Yes, you keep your script in your binder, but the regulations for publication verification aren't there. Yes, you speak for 8 to 10 minutes, but no one is giving you time signals or grace periods. Yes, H.I. does not exist as an event in college, but you'll be using humor in a variety of pieces. You'll have teasers and intros - and those introductions better sound like an ivy league English lit course squeezed into sixty seconds.

I feel like I'm selling the college interps short right now. There are some really awesome things you can do! The events are based on genre of literature, not the tone. You'll see Proses and D.I.s that are downright hilarious. Program events allow you to create innovative performances by splicing different pieces together. Topics, subject matter, and language are more mature and varied than what you would typically find in the high school circuit. There is more freedom to experiment - as long as you're able to explain the reasons behind your experimentation. Plus, the movies, television shows, spoken word poetry, and online literature that may not have an ISBN number is fair game in collegiate competition.

When you add all of this together you find that college interp performances are thought-provoking, emotionally driven, and quite often life-changing performances. With this new world of literature, splicing, and argumentation - you're able to learn more about yourself and the world around you. It is one of the rare opportunities available to combine rhetoric, passion, performance, and competition.

Below you'll find a list of the interp events you'll see most often at college tournaments. Some areas may offer specialized events, experimental events, or improvisational events. For the sake of simplicity, this article will focus on discussing the descriptions, rules, and norms of the interp events as they appear at the American Forensic Association National Individual Events Tournament and the National Forensic Association National Tournament.

AFA = American Forensic Association, NFA = National Forensic Association, IFA = International Forensic Tournament, PRP = Phi Rho Pi, DSR = Delta Sigma Rho, PKD = Pi Kappa Delta. To learn more about each organization, click 'National Tournament and Organization' and scroll down to view the links.

These are very basic overviews of the various interp events. Consider it a very quick introduction. In future posts, we'll explore each event in more depth.

For many high school competitors, college interp may appear to lack the appearance of fun to which they are generally accustomed. Carrying around a binder and attending a tournament where H.I. doesn't exist sounds like...well...I don't know what it sounds like but I've seen people scrunch their faces like they just drank bad milk. You're going to have to trust me when I say that college interp is FAR FROM BAD MILK. Once you realize that the packaging is just a little different, you open up a carton of college interp and you're like, 'Woah! This tastes like chocolate/strawberry/vanilla/soy/almond awesomeness!"

Everything you enjoy about interp - making people laugh, performing for a crowd, doing something different, making audiences think and feel something - is all there in college interp. Getting familiar with the different events is the first step to finding your niche on the collegiate circuit. Just remember to keep your black book handy, it's your new bestie that will be with you in all of your rounds.

Give 'em a big congrats, everyone!

Things are heating up in Arizona as the following competitors advance to semi-finals. NOTE - We've color coded each of the quarter-finals sections so you can better see which competitors are going 'head-to-head.'

Rivalries are everywhere: Coke vs Pepsi, Oreo vs KitKat, Mayonnaise vs Miracle Whip. Even computers and search engines get a bit edgy. It’s the nature of competition – two sides destined to meet toe-to-toe in a battle for victory.

When it comes to college rivalries, the public often immediately thinks of either athletics teams or institutional prestige. In its special feature on America’s Top Colleges, Forbes magazine decided to touch on spirited rivalries between colleges. While athletics, academics, (and some personal history) were at the heart of many of the rivalries, we were a bit surprised to see two speech teams listed – Bradley University and Western Kentucky University.

Part of it is the novelty in seeing major news outlets reference speech teams.

Another part of it is the word rivalry. It seems laden with animosity. One almost pictures audience members with painted faces and foam fingers screaming antagonistically during a heated D.I. round, “YOU CALL THAT A TEASER!?!” The idea of fans bringing vuvuzelas to an extemp round is terrifying.

It’s not uncommon for two teams that frequently cross paths to engage in a competitive tug-of-war. This happens frequently on both the high school and collegiate circuit. Some inter-school competitions are based on proximity, size, or any other shared variable.

The key to discussing Bradley's and WKU's speech teams, however, is the notion of being competitive and remaining cordial. The teams have battled it out for the AFA-NIET and NFA National Tournament championships for years. While both teams share a drive for success, it does not prevent the competitors and coaches from being gracious, polite, and courteous to each other.  Countless connections, both personal and professional, have blossomed between members of the two teams.

Forensics teaches us many things. We learn how to be articulate and analytical. We refine our work ethic and open our minds to new ideas. We figure out what to do when we achieve our goals or fall just short of them. However, this may be one of the most difficult and rewarding lessons we can learn from the activity: our competition is not our enemy.

Competition can be wonderful. It can push us to think creatively, perform whole-heartedly, and dedicate ourselves fully. Competition can unite and inspire a team. If we focus too much on it though, we lose sight of everything else. There is much we can learn from our fiercest competitors. But when we are too preoccupied with “beating the other team,” we can’t see all the positive attributes that makes our opponents successful.  

Life after forensics is full of competition. Channeling a competitive spirit in a positive way is a crucial skill to learn. What better place to practice it than in the emotional, articulate, intelligent, and fairly quirky confines of forensics?

It's easy to get tunnel-vision in forensics. You've got a tournament on the horizon. You need to research, write, memorize, and practice. You have work sessions with your coach. You show your events to alumni who competed a year or two ago. At tournaments, your head is in the game. Outside of tournaments, you're dissecting speech and debate with the people who know it best.

It's easy to focus on the people who understand forensics the most. Your coaches, teammates, and alumni understand the minutia about the activity that may get lost on other people. Topicality? Inherency? Character pops versus character melds? It sounds like gibberish to many, but the people who speak this language help you improve. They're in the center of the activity, the center of the human pyramid. Without them, it seems, you wouldn't be able to excel in the activity.

It's easy to forget that there are a lot of people who don't necessarily "speak speech" but are crucial to its existence. They're on the outside of the pyramid, but they actively support the whole thing.

Columnist Mike Pound of Joplin, Missouri, reflected on being a parent judge at his daughter's debate tournament. Calling it a "risky venture," Pound's column offers a third party viewpoint of forensics that we aren't often provided. The article is rife with references to his own perceptions of intellectual inadequacy when judging the "smart" kids. His daughter reminds him to tell debaters that he is a parent judge so they will "dumb down" their arguments. He judges some interp events and largely enjoys the experience. There is an undercurrent of exclusivity in the article. Pound paints himself as an outsider willing to sacrifice a Saturday to help his daughter's team.

It's easy to lament lay judges - the parents, teachers, and volunteers who never competed or coached but are willing to help. We spend our weekdays working on nuanced performances and arguments that we hope experienced judges will appreciate. Then, we get disappointed or angry when they go unnoticed by volunteers. (We're just as guilty at poking fun of ballots that provide little criticism or justification for ranks.) We forget, sometimes, that the forensics community is more than just coaches, competitors, and alumni. Tournaments cannot run without judges. Teams cannot exist without administrative support. Supplies cannot get purchased without budgets. The knowledge you bring to competition is built upon the knowledge of your coach(es), but also the teachers you've had in other subjects throughout the years.

Speakers need supporters. We need volunteers who are willing to sell concessions, judge rounds, raise funds, sign forms, and organize team functions. Sometimes these supporters can't give us the critical feedback we would like on our ballots. But it is worth remembering that without their help, there may not even be a tournament to attend. 

The phrase, "Thank you for judging," shouldn't just be a formality - but a sincere expression of gratitude. Take some time this month to thank your supporters. If you haven't, maybe your team could sign thank you notes to put in the mail. 

The smallest act of appreciation can go a long way in getting other people interested in forensics.