In which we discuss AI in debate

And the CFL Middle School tournament is in the books.

Everything went quite well on the debate side (and, I gather, the speech side). I had fears going in about having one pool of judges for both LD and PF, but to be honest, these judges, 95% of them parents, showed up where they were supposed to time after time, and did the job without a peep, and there we were. We asked them to acknowledge ballots and, lo and behold, none of them were too cool to do it. A few asked to be isolated in either LD or PF, and we obliged, and I have definitely suggested separate pools next time. What we’ll probably do is still use one event but allow people to prefer one or the other event if they are so inclined, as long as their particular obligation is covered. That’s easy enough in tabroom using pools. 

The only issue that came up, albeit peripherally, is the use of AI in debate. The general position of the various major bodies like the CFL is that it is a tool to be used, personal opinions about it notwithstanding, and so it’s okay, but it cannot be used as a source. That is, your evidence can’t be “Claude says 95% of dentists who chew cud recommend cud for their patients who chew cud” but otherwise, well, who knows?

And that, I think, is a problem.

Admittedly, use of AI in schools is an issue that I do not confront firsthand. I am not teaching a class where most of the students, instead of reading A Tale of Two Cities, or even watching the movie of A Tale of Two Cities, or even reading the bloody Cliff Notes of A Tale of Two Cities, tell Claude to write them a report on A Tale of Two Cities and hand it in as their own work. Given that this is still early days for AI, it is not hard to recognize AI writing when you see it. Better still, there is now software that can make the determination for you. As AI becomes better at it, on the other side AI detectors will also become better at it, so I don’t think we’ll be totally at a loss in the long run. Still, this is dramatically early days. We can have all sorts of opinions on what the future will be like, but the wise person keeps their betting money in their pocket. God only knows, and even that may be giving the deity the benefit of the doubt.

I see AI in debate at the moment as a perfectly decent research tool, which I think is where CFL or NSDA is coming from. I remember coaching in the 90s, and telling students when a new topic was released that one good idea for understanding it would be to find opinion pieces by experts and extrapolate ideas from their writings. I suggested searching the Op-Eds in The NY Times. Go out and find what the best minds are thinking on both sides and use their ideas as your starting point for your cases. I would probably say the same thing today, except that instead of spending hours using Ask Jeeves to implement their searches, they would spend two minutes asking Claude to do the job. And a decent job would be done in those two minutes. This is using AI to kickstart your initial research. Using AI as a research tool isn’t a hell of a lot different from using Google as a research tool. When I debated in the 1960s, we used The Reader’s Guide to Periodical Literature as our initial research tool. Same idea, different means. 

One thing I don’t see as a good idea is asking AI to write a case. In fact, I would ban this on my team. I see debate as an educational process, and part of that education is learning to write, to frame arguments. Can AI do this? Probably. Should AI do this? Probably not. If students come out of 4 years of high school debate as sharp writers able to effectively get ideas down on paper, they’ve learned an unimpeachable lifeskill. If they come out able to get Claude to do it? Maybe a useful enough skill, but it’s the difference between the lightning and the lightning bug, to paraphrase Mark Twain. Still, I might want to learn to get Claude to work with me on outlining, say, or maybe there’s other useful aspects of AI that wouldn’t detract from a student’s acquisition of otherwise important skills. That all is on the table at the moment.

There’s plenty of play on this. I could have a case from somewhere, and I could ask Claude to evaluate that case and to suggest rebuttals. This is a step further down the line and needs a steady hand on the human tiller, but I can see it being useful enough. But here is where we get into the dicey area of AI in debate. I am in the middle of a round. An opponent brings up an argument. Can I ask AI, during the round, to provide me a rebuttal for that argument? 

We do allow students to look something up on the internet during a round. We do not allow students to go online to consult with coaches or teammates or anyone else during a round. In this situation, AI is a virtual assistant. Should we allow students to employ virtual assistants during a round? I would say a categorical no. We do allow them to work with coaches and teammates at all other times, and I’m happy to allow them to likewise work with virtual assistants at all other times, but not during rounds. 

Since as of yet we have not determined the best use of AI in education to begin with, being on the conservative side here is probably for the best. So, yes, let’s use AI. More to the point, let’s figure out how best to use it. But during a debate round? I don’t think so. Debate rounds are for students to learn to think on their own two feet, not on Claude’s two feet. 

In which we dress up, listen up, watch a season, and crack a whip

[I don't think this ever got published, so...]

Art: The Met Gala will be on the first Friday of May. Our invitation (which, to be honest, has yet to arrive) specifies a dress code for guests “to express their own relationship to fashion as an embodied art form and celebrate the countless depictions of the dressed body throughout art history.” As soon as we find a famous painting of someone in jeans, tee shirt, and flannel over-shirt (and our invitation finally arrives) we’ll be ready to RSVP as a “You Betcha.”

To tell you the truth, the ensuing spring fashion exhibition looks interesting: “Costume Art” pairing a couple of hundred artworks with items from the Costume Institute. A while ago there was an exhibit at the Met pairing famous paintings with the actual clothes in the painting, including the Manet portrait of Morisot below. More of this? I’m game. It makes things you thought of as ethereal as quite tangible. See that dress? It’s the real thing. That very same thing. Presumably the exhibition will be in the new fashion gallery on the main floor, the one that has thrust the gift shop into the third stall from the left of the men’s room. 

Music (audit division): Speaking of high fashion, those doyens of haute couture The Grateful Dead came up in my audit cue with “Anthem of the Sun,” their second album. Most of it is noodling with occasional stop-offs at recognizable songs. At the time it introduced the uniqueness of the Dead for those of us who didn’t live in San Francisco. It was enjoyable despite its occasional sidestepping into dissonant noise (deliberately, I’ll point out). It was also hard to tell where one song ended and the next one began, except when you had to get up and turn the record over. It’s still enjoyable, albeit as much for its nostalgic value as anything else. It was certainly a step up from their wishy-washy first, eponymous album, but it wouldn’t be until their third album, “Axomoxoa,” where they learned to put together tracks that were both intact songs and Dead music. It’s been said that when all is said and done, the Dead were for live consumption only. Sadly, the one time I saw them, they sorta sucked, which is always a possibility with a troupe of ad-libbers. Sometimes musicians are on, sometimes they’re off. At least a record captures them theoretically at their editable, let’s do another take, best. The joys of live music far outweigh the negatives, though, as most big name live performers are polished pros, and we still do live concerts half a dozen times or so a year: not a record-breaking amount, but enough that, every now and then, you’re in the room when somebody gets off a good one. 

TV: I finished season 2 of “Fallout,” which has to be one of the nuttiest shows on television. Gory, funny, thought-provoking, well-acted, gorgeously produced—what more could you ask for, if you like dystopian SF? I await season 3 with bated breath. 

Gaming: For the record, I probably got through about two thirds of “Indiana Jones and the Great Circle.” It’s a good game, don’t get me wrong, but after a while, as with most games, I got sort of tired of it. There’s only so much originality a game can offer before it starts being more of the same. I don’t finish most games I’ve started, with a few exceptions. I finished both Kal Kestis Star Wars games, for instance. The narratives kept pulling me through. And there have been others. But I don’t regret not finishing anything I’ve spent many dozens of enjoyable hours with, such as “Great Circle.” I’m far from an avid gamer, but I consider that the hours I spend / With a controller in my hand are golden / Help you cultivate horse sense / And a cool hеad and a keen eye…

A pourri of pot

 Some updates on this and that while waiting to work the CFL MS tournament. 

TV: Finished the Apple TV series “Down Cemetery Road.” It’s based on a book by Slow Horses author Mick Herron, and it shares that show’s nuttily interesting characterizations. In this one, it’s the bad guys that take the cake, namely Adeel Akhtar, Darren Boyd, and especially Fehinti Balogun, but the two leads, Emma Thompson and Ruth Wilson, are perfect as well. In all, very likable. 

Movies: “Project Hail Mary” has been garnering mostly rave reviews, and it is unquestionably a fun couple of hours at the movies. I had heard that there were marked differences from the book (which I loved), but aside from the fact that movies are different from books, that’s not at all an issue. This is a fun movie, and on top of that, it’s family-friendly. Definitely worth seeing on the big screen.

Music (audit division): Catching up on a lot of albums…

Sheryl Crow, “Evolution”—Crow is always reliable for some solid rock tracks, and this recent album is no exception.

The Millennium—Wikipedia pegs this as sunshine pop. Yep. In one ear and out the other. 

Sagitarius—Also sort of sunshiney, but much higher quality. I think that I would have liked this album back in 1967. 

Joe South, “Don’t it Make You Want to Go Home”—1968 Country stuff from the mind behind “The Purple People Eater Meets the Witch Doctor.” Perfectly good if you want 1968 country stuff. 

McGough & McGear—A comedy album, British music hall stuff, in the wake of Bonzo Dog from Paul McCartney’s brother. This is why McGear is forever known as Paul McCartney’s brother.

Eire Apparent—Directed by listening to "500 Songs" on Jimi Hendrix, this album was produced by Hendrix. That’s its claim to fame, and it does not otherwise stand out. The cover art is emblematic, in any case: these guys look like a 60s rock band, say what you will about them. 

Soft Machine—Frankly, more jazz than rock. So if you’re a jazz rock enthusiast, as good a place to start as any. Mostly, I’m not, so I won't be starting.

Fat Mattress—Still on that Hendrix riff, this band was started by Hendrix bassist Noel Redding. Redding wanted to be Traffic when he grew up, and Chris Wood is even tootling up a storm on one of the tracks, but nothing here really breaks through, and the group did not last very long.

Delbert McClinton and Glen Clark, “Blind, Crippled and Crazy”—I have no idea who Glen Clark is, and I will track down his other music. Like virtually every other Delbert McClinton album (and there’s a million of them), this one has plenty of straight-ahead rock that I immediately threw into my main playlist. 

Santana, “Zebop!”—Another artist with a million albums, all of them with good stuff on them. Santana is one of the most reliable players to emerge from the 60s, from his first album to his latest. If you don’t consider him one of the top rock guitarists of all time, why are you reading this blog?

In which we build you up, buttercup

Music:

I was born into AM radio. The first time I heard Elvis sing “Hound Dog” was on the radio in 1956, driving in our new turquoise Chevy BelAir. Cars all had radios, and they were all AM radios. That’s all there was. The hits they played on the radio were available for home play on 45s. Then in the mid-60s or so, FM radio came along, with the mandated need to play something other than what the AM stations were playing. Album-oriented rock was born, the kind of music available for home play on 33s. Cars started coming with FM radios, too, but in the late 60s, which is ground zero for a lot of what has become known as classic rock, it was still usually AM on the car radio and FM on the home radio. 

This meant there was a dichotomy in the listening of the average baby boomer. Maybe as often as not you listened to AM and FM in equal measure when it came to the radio, depending on where you were listening. There were certainly still plenty of good singles, but you probably spent your money on albums. Car radios had buttons with preset stations, and you would bounce around from station to station to find a good song amongst: 1) the ads, and 2) the tripe. I have always wondered who, in 1967, made the single of Frank and Nancy’s “Something Stupid” a number one seller. I mean, who bought that single 45 rpm recording? No one I knew. (I’ve read somewhere that it was Frank’s biggest hit. Oy!) Anyhow, a million years later, the boomers have two separate tracks in their brain. One is the AM music they listened to, and the other is the AOR music they listened to. There is occasional overlap—e.g., the Stones and the Beatles—but mostly they’re separate, and they sound different. I don’t think of “Strangers in the Night” as a Sinatra song, as loosely connected to my collection of his great 50s albums. I think of it as an AM radio song that I couldn’t press the button fast enough to hear something—anything—else. Listening to the Turtles recently started me thinking about this: they were an AM band in spades. That doesn’t mean I don’t love some of their songs, not because of nostalgia but because I think they’re really good songs. It just means that I would hear them only on the AM radio. I never once bought one of their albums. I don’t know anyone who did.

It’s hard explaining the AM/AOR dichotomy to people born after the boomers. If you came to music consciousness in the disco era, if one of your primary music sources was MTV, or if you were plugged into rap culture… None of that seems to play across the same canvas. Perhaps “Build Me Up Buttercup” encapsulates the problem perfectly. I have a younger friend who thinks it’s a great song. More to the point, he thinks that I think it’s a great song. Its “greatness” may be arguable—feh!—but its position as an AM and not an AOR song is unquestionable. And, I guess, one man’s cornball is another man’s greatest hit. (I do rather like Baby Now That I’ve Found You” by the way, so I'm not totally anti-Foundations. What can I say?)

I do have an oldies playlist. If I had to define it, I would say it’s songs I originally heard primarily on the radio. AM radio. Way back when. It explains itself through listening better than I can explain it on paper.

In which we flip for sides

Debate: Catholic Charlie threw at me yesterday that I am giving opening remarks to the judges this coming weekend. Oh joy. Oh rapture. Given that these are mostly parents of Middle School kids, with online debate experience I can only imagine, the more I think about it the more I drip with excitement. I mean, experienced people in the High School arena who know theoretically what they are doing stumble about at virtual tournaments, and I have no idea if these MS judges know, even theoretically, what virtual is all about. To forestall the worst tech problems, I will be advising them to test their setups in advance at the NSDA site. The last thing I want to do Friday is try to get round one started with a whole army of MS parents who can’t link their devices to tabroom breathing down my neck. Holy Theophilus Moly!

One interesting point. Lately at our local events we’ve set up PF, for which we rule CFL-style that there is no flip, to have Pro going first in rounds one and two, and Con going first in rounds three and four. The stated purpose of these events is educational. In a normal—if you want to call it that—PF event, a team could flip Pro and go first in every round. We’ve seen it happen. And it means that they get experience doing exactly one thing all tournament. Out approach forces the issue of putting students through their paces on both sides of the resolution, and at both positions at the starting gate. We feel this better educates them, even so far as training them for events where the flip can put them anywhere. With our training, they’ve already been everywhere, and they have experience handling it. 

So I suggested this for the MS CFL, not giving it much thought, simply out of habit. Word came down from on high (the Pope is very involved in NCFL business) just to have no flip and pro always going first. I can’t say I have strong arguments either way for this tournament, since this is really a competitive-first event that is only educational by inference. But it does raise the age-old (well, couple of decades old) question of how we do PF. I’m not quite sure, but I think the endless flip came about in the origin story as an attempt to simply differentiate PF from the other debates, and to keep it, for lack of a better word, honest. NSDA adapted it straight away. The CFL, on the other hand, didn’t think it was a great idea, and they didn’t adapt it (except, curiously, for the fifth round of Nationals, but only for side and not position). I gather that there are regular plaintive cries across the land at NSDA meetings to drop it, with regular plaintive cries back of Treason! and Kill the Beast!!! I do personally prefer the idea that people could debate not merely both sides of a resolution but both in the first and second position, given equal time frames for all the speeches. Why not? In the end, what we get at least around here is everyone doing it almost every which way. National $ircuit events tend to go NSDA rules, believing that the watchful eye of the TOC Advisory committee is ready to pounce if they vary from the orthodoxy even slightly. And regional and local events as often as not go CFL style thinking that it is more educational, which it probably is, but where is the point where a competition realistically prioritizes competition over education? Touchy stuff. For anyone in an academic situation to claim that what they are doing is educational and, by default, what you are doing is NOT educational, is pretty dangerous territory, but that is what people do who claim that they are doing it right and you are doing it wrong. Mostly we're just doing it differently, with equally good intentions. Is there a best way? Ten years from now, if we're only doing it one way, that question will have answered itself. Ditto if we're not doing it only one way. If the end result remains, in everyone's mind, that students are being educated beyond the classroom, that is all that really matters. 

In which we get younger than springtime

Jurgen Habermas died recently. Not exactly a mainstream celebrity, he was definitely a debate celebrity. Once upon a time high schoolers in debate may have learned about the Enlightenment for ethical purposes, with a side order of Empiricism, and that would suffice. Admirably, I would add. But around the turn of the milliennium people who were alive when the horseless carriage was first seen coming down the road started getting into the conversation. I knew a couple of students who liked to go stare at Sandel’s and Rawls’s faculty mailboxes during the Harvard tournament. Once you threw in critical analysis, all bets were off and kids were learning things so “radical” that nowadays the government is trying to cut off their teachers at the knees. 

It is so nice to be a part of that, albeit no longer active at the front lines. If that’s not what it’s all about, then I don’t know what is.

Meanwhile, for reasons of simply wanting to help Catholic Charlie out if possible, I volunteered to work with him at an NCFL middle school tournament. I didn’t even know they had a middle school tournament, and it turns out that this is the introductory event. I like the idea of MS debate because basic education these days doesn’t strike me as going out there and expanding minds. These MS years are serious ones of growth and maturing; giving MSers some interesting ideas to chew on sets them up to learn how to learn, which is what our extracurricular activity is all about (and what the curricular activities should be all about). 

Nevertheless, I do worry about a couple of things. First of all, I don’t like a tournament that mixes HS and MS kids. Being of MS age is hard enough; being of MS age in a cafeteria full of HSers borders on too much. It is one thing to perform maturely in front of a judge in a strictly defined situation, and another thing altogether to be surrounded by HS juniors and seniors in that particular universe of theirs. There’s time enough for that in a couple of years. The other thing I worry about it hyper-competitive parents. Debate is a pathway to great thinking. Competition is a means to that end. When competition becomes the end, things are off. Winning is great, but if you’re only doing this to get into the right program/prep school/college, you’re missing the point. And you probably won’t get into the right program/prep school/college. As I always pointed out to parents who insisted that their kids go to the Harvard tournament, going to the Harvard tournament was in no way, shape, or form connected to going to Harvard. Winning the  Harvard tournament was in no way, shape, or form connected to going to Harvard. What I’m saying is that the introduction of MS kids to good competition must always remember that they are MS students first. They’re like one noodle over the line from just being little kids (and if you actually see them, some of these little folks have yet to even get their noodle). 

I’ll be curious to see how my thoughts play out at the tournament next weekend. 

In which we page through some music, some meatballs, and some TV shows

Music (and/or books): A while ago I read Questlove’s Music is History (well, all right, I listened to him narrate it), and found it fascinating. At the time, I put it into the back of my mind to listen to all that music. This being 2026, Spotify had the playlist just waiting for me, and lately I’ve been listening to it while working in the kitchen. Food prep, one of my favorite activities, always seems to go better with music, and the "Music is History" playlist seems to have been invented to bop along while you chop. Most of the music is not what I normally listen to, so it enriches the kitchen experience in many, many ways. The book, and the playlist, are highly recommended. 

Food: Speaking of which, some very nice meatballs: https://cooking.nytimes.com/recipes/770849339-spinach-meatballs-with-pasta?smid=share-url I am of the school of spinach-enhancement: much of what I do in the kitchen comes out better if I throw some spinach into it. First of all, you get a nice extra vegetable, but on top of that you get a nice extra flavor. And when you sneak it into a meatball, even your spinach-averse friends (of which I have too many) will gobble it right down. 

Meanwhile, I have found that I have been relying way too much on the Times app, and lately have been going back to all my cookbooks, of which I have a very nice collection. For the record: if the Times covers a recipe you have in a book, e.g., Pierre Franey’s moussaka, use the book. The Times modifies things a lot, and in my experience the original is always better.

Television: Catching up a bit:

• “All Creatures Great and Small” is perfect PBS comfort viewing. And as you want with a farm vet story, plenty of arms up inside large animals. It’s a Masterpiece Theatre presentation, and I can’t imagine anything better fitting into relaxing Sunday night entertainment. 
• There’s a bunch of CNN docuseries on HBO/Max, the latest of which I watched being about the history of Las Vegas. There’s a certain corniness and obviousness to these shows, but they’re interesting enough that one sticks with them. I mean, when was the last time you saw Wayne Newton?
• Justin Willman is a magician with a bunch of shows on Netflix. I’ve watched them all, including the most recent one. I’ve also seen him live at one of our local theaters. He’s as personable as can be, and original. I recommend all of his stuff. 
• “The Punisher” is one of the Netflix series of Marvel stories now airing on Disney+. I think these series get a bad rap. Granted some seasons are better than others, but I’ve found them at worst watchable and at best interesting and unique stuff. Considering that Disney has resurrected Daredevil (a second season starts soon), it’s not bad to go back into the archives. I thought the Punisher first season that I just finished was pretty good. The series in order lists Jessica Jones season 2 next, but I’ve already watched that, so next up will be Luke Cage’s second season. Mike Colter, the Luke Cage actor, has been a favorite of mine since I first met him as an elegant mobster back on “The Good Wife.” I guess what I’m saying is that if you’ve been going by the so-so critical response to these shows and avoiding them, you might want to rethink that.  

In which we don't stay up late

TV: I was planning on staying up late to watch the Oscars, and it was over around 10:30. I wasn’t even yawning yet. Amazing! Of course, it did start at 7:00 EST, and my recollection is that it used to start at 8:00, so that may account for some of it. And they didn’t have full performances of all the nominated songs, a good time-saving choice since as often as not it’s the first time and the last time you’ll ever hear them and it’s too late to vote, even if you wanted to. And I always enjoy Conan, which helped cover up for what seemed an unbroken series of failed bits from the presenters. And I have planned on watching all the nominated movies. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon…

Music (queue division): 

• Neil Sedaka, “The Hungry Years” I was already going through Sedaka’s work before he up and died on me. There’s something inherently chipper in his songs, and his voice, and he really was a pop god before the Beatles came along. All the songs on this album sound like perfect early sixties pop, and there’s only one problem: He recorded it in 1975. As you listen to it you remark to yourself that there is absolutely song-writing craftsmanship going on, but it’s a dated craftsmanship. On the other hand, the album contains the slow version of “Breaking Up is Hard to Do,” one the the greats no matter what the decade. 
• The Turtles’s “Battle of the Bands” is a mediocre album with a couple of gems. It raises the question of FM vs AM, which I’ll get into some other time. 
• Lovin’ Spoonful, “Everything Playing,” has a couple of good songs that were late hits for them, but that’s about it. I probably had this in the queue after Andrew Hickey described how the Turtles wanted to be a good time music band like the Spoonful. Whatever.
• “McCartney III” — I hate to say it, but Sir Paul has lost his voice. Hell, he was born in 1942, so to say that he sings like an old man is to belabor the obvious. The problem is, he writes songs for his young voice. So it goes.
• The Kinks, “Face to Face” is prime stuff from Davies and company. It is educational to compare Davies’s “Dandy” vs Herman’s Hermits’ cover version. It’s a literal cover, exact down to the briefest semiquaver, and it’s cute. The Kinks’s version is not cute. And I admit, I like them both. But if I were heading to a desert album, I think I’d be leaving my extensive Hermits collection back on the mainland.