Here we are again. This is from last year but we're at the Schwan's Speech Spectacular weekend again. I hope to start my blog on a twice-monthly basis soon.
Stay tuned.
*
Marshall High School’s Annual
“Schwan’s Speech Spectacular”
"If I could pick one
factor in selecting a student
who will excel in college,
it would be participation in high school Speech."
John Sexton, President New York University
Quote supplied by Mr. Rick Purrington, Marshall Senior High Speech Director
*
I was introduced to the excellence of Minnesota high school speech my first year of graduate school at the University of Notre Dame back in 1978. One stellar Minnesotan first-year student wrote about her four-year career in high school speech. Her essay was so extraordinary that I kept it, duplicated it, and shared it with my next class, and my next, and my next. My ND student wrote about her hours of
preparation and practice as a member of a champion-caliber team. She then explained the thrill and keenness of the competition at the larger high school meets. Generally these were in the Cities, although with her skills, she eventually went to meets at the regional and national level. I first read that essay nearly 35 years ago, and yet I still use this piece
whenever I teach composition.
When we moved to Marshall 23 years ago, I was again introduced to Minnesota speech, this time more specifically Marshall High’s stunning team. Next to our rented duplex, a family with four children lived. The older two were at Marshall High while the youngest was our daughter’s preschool age. It was a perfect set-up: a new friend for our daughter and competent babysitters right next door. Through them we heard all sorts of praise for the Marshall schools, especially all the extracurricular activities
the high school had to offer, like Marching Band, Choir, and Speech.
Very early on in our life here, we stocked our freezer with Schwan’s mini-pizzas and boxes of cookie dough sold door-to-door by MHS Speech
members. They always seemed to come on the coldest January Sunday in pairs or sets of three.
Perky, smart, and respectful, they had a confident, winning attitude.
Our daughter’s first year at Marshall High coincided with the first year of the Schwan’s Speech Spectacular twelve seasons ago. I was able to help with the first and second Spectaculars, both held
exclusively in what is now the Marshall Middle School campus. I did hallway monitoring to guide scurrying participants to their right rooms. Having previously taught high school for four years, I suspected that at this first Spectacular I would have to be policing noisy students, asking ebullient participants to quiet down or move along. I assumed that I might have to break up a boy/girl couple or two. I even imagined having to confiscate cigarettes.
Was I ever wrong twelve years ago at that first Spectacular.
I had never worked directly with speech teams before that weekend, but I was delighted with all the
students. They were respectful, self-disciplined, focused, and polite. Also dressed professionally with suits and ties for the young men; blazers, skirts, and crisp blouses and heels for the young women. I felt like I was at a job-interview-practice-camp for Wall Street or some law school that only took outgoing and talented 17-year-olds.
And did they know the three key elements of excellent tournament play: “practice, practice, practice.” You must attend one of these meets to understand what I am about to describe. It was at my initial Spectacular that I first witnessed what can only be described as “the Speech-Wall Syndrome.” Walk down any speech venue corridor, and scattered about at what seems to be a mandatory seven-and-a-half-foot interval are participants practicing, practicing, practicing their moving oratory, their wry smiles at a punch line, their statistical evidence backed by appropriate hand gestures. Bricks or school lockers do not respond, but these sharp contenders do not care. They don’t want an
audience at this point; they want eight minutes to make certain their timing is perfect, their hand movements are natural, or their smiles are sincere.
At that first Schwan’s Spectacular, I witnessed something else besides the talent and enthusiasm of individual participants. I realized that being on a speech team was a “big deal” in ways I was only just beginning to understand. This particular tournament was able to garner participating high schools from Denver and Tennessee. I couldn’t believe it. It
was typical Minnesota winter weather, yet buses of students from as close as Canby and as far as the slopes of the Rockies were here. And when not presenting, most of them seemed to find a quiet spot and deliver (all by themselves) with their noses brushing a brick wall or a student locker.
I took a hiatus from the Spectacular until three years ago. Mr. Rick Purrington, the MHS director of Speech, put out a call for volunteers to help judge. I was game. By now, the high school had its sparkling new campus across Highway 23 from SMSU where an additional set of rooms were needed to handle the 800 participants from seven states competing in
categories as varied as “Original Oratory” and “Great Speeches” (two vastly different types of presentations),“Informative Speaking” and “Discussion.” Shuttle buses run participants and
judges from the high school to the university so there are rooms enough for all the events. A judge like myself might hear eight“Extemporaneous Readings” from a Nobel Prize-winning novel then,
after filing scores, have to hustle across the highway to hear seven “Informational Speeches”on topics like the history of Jell-O or resilience as a necessary trait of personal success.
On the recent Schwan’s Speech Spectacular weekend, I was unable to judge the first event
round. But while still on the SMSU campus, I came face-to-face with a professionally dressed young woman whose hair was in a tight bun that made her look older than her high school years. “Speech!” I blurted out, “you’re here for the Schwan’s Meet.”
Yes, she said, and told me she was lost. I showed her where classroom BA 235 was, but we both knew this had to be the place. Six other nervous young men and women had already gathered outside the classroom, each as formally dressed as the next, and each talking to the wall as a gaggle of college kids, in gym shorts and sweatshirts, moved along ignoring them.
Later that afternoon, walking through MHS between events, I saw 800 nerdy yet competitors
practicing, encouraging, coaching teammates, and eyeing the other contenders. I saw former students
who, as high school teachers now, brought their teams to compete. I saw ranks of Marshall High parents keeping the refreshments flowing and
helping lost participants find the right room. The whole utter chaos of between-events is managed so miraculously that at the beginning of a competition round, the school is suddenly silent as most of the students draw a deep breath, nod to their judge, and begin. Those not presenting wait patiently, listening with a tuned ear to their fellow competitors. As this next round begins, 800 taut teenagers are in the right place and instantly as quiet as senior citizens at church.
As the weekend progressed and I found the classroom where I was to judge, or wrote up my
scores, or scurried off to my next venue, I had the deep sense that I was amid such talented and hard-working high schoolers that one or two were destined to be a state governor, others will definitely become mayors and legislators and senators. Many will be surgeons and perhaps astronauts. Most would complete university degrees and be our next generation of business leaders, teachers, and articulate parents. Many are aspiring lawyers; a few destined to be future judges.
I love many aspects of living in Marshall, but one of the best is the way the parents of current students here are really devoted to the high school and its extracurricular activities. In some school systems, I think this devotion is tied solely to athletics. I know many parents here follow our local winning sports teams closely, no doubt, but I have always been positively struck by how the parents and grandparents around here support the Speech team,
the Marching Band, and the arts in general.
This carries over to the high school students as well. Time and again at MHS I have seen signs pasted to lockers encouraging Speech students to “Orate Like a Champion Today!”or “Bring Home the Gold!” It’s the kind of enthusiasm usually reserved for football or basketball stars. But in Marshall, it seems that a student can star at athletics and Speech and Band yet not seem out of place. Striving at all the extras seems encouraged. Being well-rounded is encouraged. A wonderful, supportive attitude permeates the whole community. Marshall should be justly proud of this tradition; it’s rare.
The two-day meet on the last weekend of January was a dizzy, exciting event. I have judged three Spectaculars in a row and have already blocked off my January 2013 weekend to make sure I have no conflicts for the 13th annual event. The silent bricks along the MHS Fine Arts wing are already waiting for all that last-minute practice.
Stay tuned.
*
Marshall High School’s Annual
“Schwan’s Speech Spectacular”
"If I could pick one
factor in selecting a student
who will excel in college,
it would be participation in high school Speech."
John Sexton, President New York University
Quote supplied by Mr. Rick Purrington, Marshall Senior High Speech Director
*
I was introduced to the excellence of Minnesota high school speech my first year of graduate school at the University of Notre Dame back in 1978. One stellar Minnesotan first-year student wrote about her four-year career in high school speech. Her essay was so extraordinary that I kept it, duplicated it, and shared it with my next class, and my next, and my next. My ND student wrote about her hours of
preparation and practice as a member of a champion-caliber team. She then explained the thrill and keenness of the competition at the larger high school meets. Generally these were in the Cities, although with her skills, she eventually went to meets at the regional and national level. I first read that essay nearly 35 years ago, and yet I still use this piece
whenever I teach composition.
When we moved to Marshall 23 years ago, I was again introduced to Minnesota speech, this time more specifically Marshall High’s stunning team. Next to our rented duplex, a family with four children lived. The older two were at Marshall High while the youngest was our daughter’s preschool age. It was a perfect set-up: a new friend for our daughter and competent babysitters right next door. Through them we heard all sorts of praise for the Marshall schools, especially all the extracurricular activities
the high school had to offer, like Marching Band, Choir, and Speech.
Very early on in our life here, we stocked our freezer with Schwan’s mini-pizzas and boxes of cookie dough sold door-to-door by MHS Speech
members. They always seemed to come on the coldest January Sunday in pairs or sets of three.
Perky, smart, and respectful, they had a confident, winning attitude.
Our daughter’s first year at Marshall High coincided with the first year of the Schwan’s Speech Spectacular twelve seasons ago. I was able to help with the first and second Spectaculars, both held
exclusively in what is now the Marshall Middle School campus. I did hallway monitoring to guide scurrying participants to their right rooms. Having previously taught high school for four years, I suspected that at this first Spectacular I would have to be policing noisy students, asking ebullient participants to quiet down or move along. I assumed that I might have to break up a boy/girl couple or two. I even imagined having to confiscate cigarettes.
Was I ever wrong twelve years ago at that first Spectacular.
I had never worked directly with speech teams before that weekend, but I was delighted with all the
students. They were respectful, self-disciplined, focused, and polite. Also dressed professionally with suits and ties for the young men; blazers, skirts, and crisp blouses and heels for the young women. I felt like I was at a job-interview-practice-camp for Wall Street or some law school that only took outgoing and talented 17-year-olds.
And did they know the three key elements of excellent tournament play: “practice, practice, practice.” You must attend one of these meets to understand what I am about to describe. It was at my initial Spectacular that I first witnessed what can only be described as “the Speech-Wall Syndrome.” Walk down any speech venue corridor, and scattered about at what seems to be a mandatory seven-and-a-half-foot interval are participants practicing, practicing, practicing their moving oratory, their wry smiles at a punch line, their statistical evidence backed by appropriate hand gestures. Bricks or school lockers do not respond, but these sharp contenders do not care. They don’t want an
audience at this point; they want eight minutes to make certain their timing is perfect, their hand movements are natural, or their smiles are sincere.
At that first Schwan’s Spectacular, I witnessed something else besides the talent and enthusiasm of individual participants. I realized that being on a speech team was a “big deal” in ways I was only just beginning to understand. This particular tournament was able to garner participating high schools from Denver and Tennessee. I couldn’t believe it. It
was typical Minnesota winter weather, yet buses of students from as close as Canby and as far as the slopes of the Rockies were here. And when not presenting, most of them seemed to find a quiet spot and deliver (all by themselves) with their noses brushing a brick wall or a student locker.
I took a hiatus from the Spectacular until three years ago. Mr. Rick Purrington, the MHS director of Speech, put out a call for volunteers to help judge. I was game. By now, the high school had its sparkling new campus across Highway 23 from SMSU where an additional set of rooms were needed to handle the 800 participants from seven states competing in
categories as varied as “Original Oratory” and “Great Speeches” (two vastly different types of presentations),“Informative Speaking” and “Discussion.” Shuttle buses run participants and
judges from the high school to the university so there are rooms enough for all the events. A judge like myself might hear eight“Extemporaneous Readings” from a Nobel Prize-winning novel then,
after filing scores, have to hustle across the highway to hear seven “Informational Speeches”on topics like the history of Jell-O or resilience as a necessary trait of personal success.
On the recent Schwan’s Speech Spectacular weekend, I was unable to judge the first event
round. But while still on the SMSU campus, I came face-to-face with a professionally dressed young woman whose hair was in a tight bun that made her look older than her high school years. “Speech!” I blurted out, “you’re here for the Schwan’s Meet.”
Yes, she said, and told me she was lost. I showed her where classroom BA 235 was, but we both knew this had to be the place. Six other nervous young men and women had already gathered outside the classroom, each as formally dressed as the next, and each talking to the wall as a gaggle of college kids, in gym shorts and sweatshirts, moved along ignoring them.
Later that afternoon, walking through MHS between events, I saw 800 nerdy yet competitors
practicing, encouraging, coaching teammates, and eyeing the other contenders. I saw former students
who, as high school teachers now, brought their teams to compete. I saw ranks of Marshall High parents keeping the refreshments flowing and
helping lost participants find the right room. The whole utter chaos of between-events is managed so miraculously that at the beginning of a competition round, the school is suddenly silent as most of the students draw a deep breath, nod to their judge, and begin. Those not presenting wait patiently, listening with a tuned ear to their fellow competitors. As this next round begins, 800 taut teenagers are in the right place and instantly as quiet as senior citizens at church.
As the weekend progressed and I found the classroom where I was to judge, or wrote up my
scores, or scurried off to my next venue, I had the deep sense that I was amid such talented and hard-working high schoolers that one or two were destined to be a state governor, others will definitely become mayors and legislators and senators. Many will be surgeons and perhaps astronauts. Most would complete university degrees and be our next generation of business leaders, teachers, and articulate parents. Many are aspiring lawyers; a few destined to be future judges.
I love many aspects of living in Marshall, but one of the best is the way the parents of current students here are really devoted to the high school and its extracurricular activities. In some school systems, I think this devotion is tied solely to athletics. I know many parents here follow our local winning sports teams closely, no doubt, but I have always been positively struck by how the parents and grandparents around here support the Speech team,
the Marching Band, and the arts in general.
This carries over to the high school students as well. Time and again at MHS I have seen signs pasted to lockers encouraging Speech students to “Orate Like a Champion Today!”or “Bring Home the Gold!” It’s the kind of enthusiasm usually reserved for football or basketball stars. But in Marshall, it seems that a student can star at athletics and Speech and Band yet not seem out of place. Striving at all the extras seems encouraged. Being well-rounded is encouraged. A wonderful, supportive attitude permeates the whole community. Marshall should be justly proud of this tradition; it’s rare.
The two-day meet on the last weekend of January was a dizzy, exciting event. I have judged three Spectaculars in a row and have already blocked off my January 2013 weekend to make sure I have no conflicts for the 13th annual event. The silent bricks along the MHS Fine Arts wing are already waiting for all that last-minute practice.
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