Of Debates and Vocal Arguments

How My Mental and Physical Laziness Led to My Failure

During my NYSC, I entered a debate competition.

We were to talk about how the NYSC scheme was irrelevant to the average Nigerian graduate.

NYSC stands for National Youth Service Corps.

It’s a compulsory 11-month program where every university graduate is assigned to serve their country in a different state.

When it started, it was a significant initiative to promote national unity and encourage a sense of patriotism among Nigerian youths, especially after the civil war.

But of course, in our usual fashion in Nigeria, it became a shadow of itself.

The debate topic was “NYSC Should be Scrapped From the Nigerian System” and I was assigned to oppose the motion.

I never enjoyed debates growing up and it wasn’t because I had trouble speaking in front of an audience—I could do that just fine—but I disliked the preparation that went into it.

Debating required intense study, rigorous preparation, practicing in front of a mirror, and so on.

Frankly, I was too mentally and physically lazy for all that. I was perfectly content sitting in the audience. But here I was, preparing for a debate on the spot.

Here’s the issue:

1. We weren’t informed ahead of time that we’d be debating. Our liaison officer simply decided on the spot that we should do it during our Community Development Service (CDS).

2. I didn’t think I should participate, especially since there were more seemingly outspoken corpers in my CDS group.

Yet, somehow, out of all the corpers present that day, they chose me.

We were given about 30 minutes to prepare and then we started.

I wowed them, at least at first. I spoke intelligently, picked out my points and shared them succinctly.

We had just 15 minutes to talk so I was being very conscious of time.

And then, I flopped.

I made a statement that favoured the other group.

As I carefully presented my arguments, I said, "NYSC should not be scrapped; however, I believe people should be posted to their own geographical regions instead of being sent to a village they've never been to in their lives..."

The entire crowd erupted in an uproar.

The noise was so overwhelming that I couldn’t continue, and before I knew it, my time was up, and I had to return to my seat.

Naturally, my team lost. The team lead pointed out my mistake, and even my friends were disappointed.

It was a very embarrassing moment for me, one I’ll never forget

I have spoken in front of larger crowds since and I find comfort in knowing that I’m a terrific speaker.

Look, there are times when even the best of us fail; we stumble, make mistakes, and fall short of our expectations.

But it's important to remember that failure isn’t the end of the story. It’s a part of the journey, a stepping stone on the growth path.

Every setback is an opportunity to come back stronger, wiser, and more determined.

That’s a post I made on LinkedIn a few days ago.

I also posted it on my notes, on X, on threads, and on my YouTube community feed.

You see, these things come naturally to me.

Before I discovered my talent for writing, I used to wish I could be a writer.

In secondary school, I had a friend with not only beautiful handwriting but also impressive writing skills.

She’d write love poems on small pieces of paper and share them with some of our classmates.

I remember the first time I read one of her poems; I looked at it and silently prayed, “God, I wish I could write like this.”

God really answers prayers.

While I don’t write poems and rarely read them, I did once spend my bank job salary on a book that turned out to be a collection of poems. But that’s a story for another day.

The Disappointment Called the ‘Principal’s Daughter’

All through my secondary school, my dad was the principal.

He was loved by the students because of his commitment to their well-being.

The teachers always spoke about how kind and compassionate he was and they were fascinated by his academic brilliance, too.

Before I finished primary school, he received a better offer from a larger school and moved there.

After my first year of secondary school, I joined him at the new school.

One day, during the school’s extracurricular activities, I didn’t have a club to join since I had only been there for two weeks.

Naturally, I followed some girls from my class into the debate club.

I later discovered that it was the most popular club in the school, with many teachers as instructors.

Some of the students were asked to debate a topic, and two girls stood out with their impressive performance.

They delivered their arguments so well that they received a standing ovation.

I later learned that they were among the most brilliant students in Year 2.

Just before the bell rang, one of the teachers called me up to speak and announced that I was the principal’s daughter.

Everyone applauded, expecting a great performance.

Unfortunately, I flopped!

At that time, I wasn’t really enthusiastic about debates. Remember I mentioned that at the beginning of this letter.

News of my failure quickly spread throughout the school, and teachers discussed it frequently in their staff rooms.

One comment from my Biology teacher, however, stands out in my memory.

After our first continuous assessment test in Year 2, he began making remarks about the students’ performance.

When he called my name and I stood up, he asked if I was related to the principal. I confirmed that I was.

He then said, "What a pity, you didn’t even take after your father, what a shame"

The ‘average student’ stigma stuck with me throughout high school, but thankfully, I was able to build self-confidence quickly after I left.

The reason I’m revisiting these painful memories is that I’ve come to realize how deeply my environment, my school friends, and even my parents have left scars on me throughout my life.

And maybe, as you’re reading this, you’re thinking about your own experiences—the moments when you felt judged, misunderstood, or simply not enough.

We’ve all been there. The truth is, we often carry the weight of these past experiences with us, sometimes without even realizing it.

But here’s the thing: those scars don’t define who you are today. They’re part of your story, yes, but they don’t have to dictate your future.

I can write about it today because I’m a different person now, better.

And if my Biology teacher sees me today or reads about me online, he’d eat his words.

We all have the power to rise above our past, to heal, and to grow into the person we’re meant to be.

It’s not easy, I know. It takes time, self-compassion, and a willingness to confront those wounds.

But remember, you’re not alone in this journey.

We all have our battles, and together, we can find the strength to move forward, to turn those scars into sources of resilience and growth.

I once shared a story here about how, in my primary school, we were divided into three rows: the “Olodo” row (which means dumb), the semi-brilliant row, and the brilliant row. Naturally, I ended up in the semi-brilliant group.

It’s a memory I’ll never forget, a scar that will always stay with me.

All of these were situations that could have completely silenced my voice, if not for God.

Why I couldn’t possibly be the best student in English class

When I got to year 4, I became one of the best students in English language and year 6, I became the overall best.

My essays were always near perfect, my comprehension was awesome, and my grammar? Pleeeaaasse!

Problem: I was in science class and according to my teachers, it was an error.

I struggled with Biology, I was terrible at Chemistry, and Physics and Mathematics were out of the question.

I was a misfit in science class. But my English teacher never gave up on me—God bless her soul.

Since graduating from university with a Second Class Lower, I’ve never had to use any of those science courses.

It’s my skills in English—writing and speaking—that are now bringing in my income.

My outspokenness has opened doors for me that someone with my age and background wouldn’t typically have access to.

My friend who never argues objectively

I recently started distancing myself from a friend who never argues objectively.

The moment a friendly debate begins, she loses control and starts hurling insults at her opponent.

This habit has earned her a reputation for being difficult to engage with, and it’s led to strained relationships with others as well.

Unfortunately, it's become nearly impossible to have a meaningful conversation with her without it turning into a hostile encounter.

I use her as a mirror to reflect on myself, making sure my own outspokenness hasn’t reached a point where it’s given me a bad reputation.

In Closing

As you reflect on your own life, I hope you find the courage to let go of the pain and embrace the possibility of a brighter, stronger you.

Realize that when you fall, you’re capable of rising again. And when you do, you’ll be amazed at how much you’ve grown.

The road to success is paved with resilience, and you have the strength to keep going, no matter how many times you fall.

Hey there reader, if you’re loving this story-good. But what would really help me grow is if you subscribe to my YouTube channel and my Podcast. I have created a small free e-book that’ll teach you how to build an online business from scratch subtly, you can get it here. Learn more about me at fisayopatrick.com. Love you loads.

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