In fifth grade, I had my one and only formal debate. We were supposed to pretend we were on the brink of the Civil War, a choice that no doubt seemed safely distant to most of us where I grew up, in Colorado.
My parents' house lay about 2 miles south of what back this way was the Mason-Dixon line, so I chose to represent the South. It went pretty well through the opening statements and one round back and forth.
Then I got to my second major point, which was that northerners had no real moral claim against racism, since they had plenty of Ku Klux Klansmen up there, too.
My opponent, the dreaded Rhonda Blankenship, flashed a winning smirk and noted that I must be quite a fortune-teller - the Ku Klux Klan didn't exist until after the Civil War.
I still remember the shame of that defeat. Maybe that's what keeps bringing me back to watch the debates every election season.
I want someone to look worse than I felt back in fifth grade. After watching three rounds of John Kerry going head-to-head with George W. Bush, I'm starting to feel a bit better. Even for the pros, it's hard to keep everything on track.
Bush seemed out of his element. Presidents often get coddled into thinking they can do no wrong, and by carefully screening crowds and limiting his press events throughout his first term, Bush might have been softened up even more than some of his predecessors.
The easy floater questions suddenly came high and inside like a Roger Clemens fastball, and the soothing scroll of a teleprompter was nowhere in sight.
At times, he simply didn't seem to know what he was talking about.