Eight Metric Tons

My welcome letter from our recent World Scholar's Cup Global Round in Kuala Lumpur, slightly edited (because editor). A strange way to jump start a moribund blog, but I guess there are no rules for this sort of thing. 

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Dear Scholars and Friends:

Unlikely things can happen. A week from now, a security officer at the Kuala Lumpur International Airport will report a worrisome development: the invasion of the airport by thousands of stuffed animals. “Possibly camels,” he will write, “Or maybe sheep. They are very colorful.”

This gathering of 2,700 scholars from forty countries—the sixty regional rounds around the world that have brought you here—the learning you have done, on topics you may never have otherwise explored in school, from superheroes to semiotics—you have undertaken something incredibly improbable this season in the World Scholar’s Cup, and I salute you for it.

Now my team and I are all-the-honored to welcome you to the largest Global Round in the program’s history. Over the next week, you will debate difficult motions, challenge expert speakers, and enjoy unexpected moments of new friendship and hilarity. By design, it will be exhausting. I hope it will also be exhilarating.

This event—this entire program—would not be possible without the support of thousands of champions all across the world—including the volunteers you will see working their hearts out all week long. Please be sure to thank them, because they are never thanked enough. We are also so grateful to our friends at the Malaysian Institute of Debate and Public Speaking, our debate day hosts at Fairview International School and Epsom College Malaysia, and so many others, for their selfless, joyful, critical contributions to this Global Round.

People often ask me, “What is it like to have started the World Scholar’s Cup?” (Also: “How do you cope with the jetlag?”) I tell them it’s been the adventure of a lifetime. That the adventure isn’t the travel: it’s all of you. It’s the conga lines in Jordan, and the malva pudding in Johannesburg, and the first-ever teams from Kyrgyzstan (thank you for all the gifts!); it’s the scholars of Shenton and Georgiana Malloy and so many other amazing schools; it’s cookies versus cheese sticks in Hong Kong (I’m Team Cookie); it’s late-night essay grading and alpaca riots and mispronouncing your names; it’s Jerry Pwatter, and yoga fire, and the Hippwaacratic Oath.

More than any of that: it’s the breathtakingly selfless team that works so hard to bring this program together, week by week. They aren’t just the staff; they are my friends. When the season is over, or when they move on, as they someday must, to other adventures of their own, I miss them more than they know. If the World Scholar’s Cup feels like a family, it’s because there is a family behind it. And if we are so privileged as to make a small difference in your lives, it is only a reflection of the greater difference you have made in ours.

With that: we’re off on a scholar’s journey. Pwaadventure awaits!

(So do 8,500 kilograms of medals and Jerries.)

All best,

Daniel