Wednesday, February 22, 2012

20 rules for judging at debate tournaments

1. Read the schematic. Yes, you could stand in front of the ballot table and block everybody else while you're looking for your name among the ballots that are sorted alphabetically which, apparently, isn't something you're familiar with, but on the other hand, if you simply looked at the schematic, you'd see your name, or not, and you'd know exactly what you're supposed to do.

2. Hang around nearby until all the ballots are distributed. Yes, you'd rather do anything but judge, but judging is your job at a tournament, so just do it. If you pick up ballots that are pushed, you will get a reputation in the tab room as a living saint, and this will benefit you in all considerations forensical. Nothing has a longer memory than a tabber.

3. Write a paradigm that is no longer than one paragraph. For the most part, either you're an old fart or a new fart, and either you can handle speed or you can't. Other than that, nothing really matters, and a paradigm that is longer than the constitution of Uzbekistan does credit neither to you nor to the Uzbekistanis.

4. Do not be the last person to return your ballots. By the same quirk of tabber memory that brings down sainthood on the ever available, vilification is thine if, every single round, we're waiting for you to make up that confused chopped salad laughingly referred to as your mind. If the round is too difficult for you to adjudicate, flip a coin. If you're always the slowest person in the room you probably don't understand much of it anyhow, so don't kid yourself.

5. Pick up your ballots right away. If you wish to coach your teams, fine, but do it with a ballot in your hands. We will only wait so long for you to show up, and then we'll push your ballot. The debaters who were expecting you to adjudicate (and you were one of their A+ judges), and finds instead one of their D- judges, will quickly figure out that you're one of those bozos who is time-telling challenged when it comes to getting to rounds, and you will sink in their estimation to a D-, and they will whine to all their friends, and the next thing you know, you're judging all the 0-4 rounds.

6. Don't complain to tab that you are getting too many ballots. See number 2 above. Judging is your job. Do it.

7. Don't complain to tab that you are not getting enough ballots. The reason for this is probably because the field at large struck you, including all the people in the 0-4 bracket. It probably took years for you to earn the reputation as one of the worst judges in the field. Savor it. All the other judges envy your lazing in the judge lounge. Again.

8. Don't complain to tab that you don't like the rounds to which you are being assigned. The software does it, not us. See number 7, above. If it were up to us, you would judge every round as far away as possible, because the further you are from us, and the more often, the better.

9. Put your phone away. Yes, it is nice to check Facebook every three minutes of your life so that the airheads titularly referred to as your friends can see your whiny post about having to judge 0-4 rounds, but your job is to judge, not to text. Texting is your hobby, yes, and the one thing you are capable of doing marginally well, but it is not a marketable skill, nor is it a worthy athletic achievement, so leave it alone for the next hour or so.

10. Do not pick up someone else's ballot. Even if you engage in barbaric acts of the flesh in the back of the bus with this person regularly, your ballot is your ballot and that person's ballot is that person's. You are not interchangeable in debate terms, even though you may be interchangeable in all other general life situations, thus throwing into disarray the ontological concept of Human Worth.

11. Do not write messages to tab on the ballot. We don't read them. All we care about is points and winners. If you want to talk to us, come and talk to us. We do not scour the ballots for the crumbs of wisdom the judge pool is leaving for us. Really, we don't, hard as it is to believe.

12. Do not write your RFD on the back of the ballot. It will not be copied. Duh.

13. Do not write your ballot in light blue pencil. It will not be copied. Duh.

14. Unless someone has told you otherwise, give either whole or half points. If you don't, we will. We will also wonder why you weren't paying attention when no one told you otherwise.

15. Don't come into tab and ask us questions while we're huddled over the computer. Either we're pairing the rounds or we're playing Sporcle, and neither activity should be disturbed for any reason short of the building being on fire or a student's bleeding.

16. Inform the tab room of conflicts before we pair the rounds, not after we've assigned you to judge a person with whom you engage in barbaric acts of the flesh in the back of the bus.

17. Don't argue with Joe Vaughan. It won't do you any good. It has never done anyone any good. That's just the way it is. Deal with it.

18. Don't ask when the next round is coming out. As a general rule, the next round comes out after the last round goes in. If we could pair every round of the tournament a day early, I assure you we would do it. Keep in mind that, no matter when you get out at night, the tab room gets out later, meaning that we want things to move just as much as you do, if not more so.

19. Do not come to tab to tell us that you shouldn't be judging because you don't know what you're doing, because we took one look at you and were able to figure that out for ourselves. This is a problem between you and your coach, not you and the tab room. If it's actually true, at the very least you should tell the debaters you're judging, so that they will adapt to a newcomer (which they will do gladly, if they have any sense and would rather pick up a ballot than preserve the ideal nature of debate the way they do it, which should not be sullied by people who can't understand their amazing albeit chimerical brilliance).

20. If a team doesn't show up for a round, you could either never tell us, or let us know after about ten minutes, the normal amount of time to agree to a forfeit. Guess which one we recommend!

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