Leadership Sucks

Being a founding president is never easy. I sometimes wish Ravin had done it before I did, but he did his part in the creation of a debate club and I can't complain. But there are days when I just break down and wonder if it's all worth it. The passion. The training. The expenditure of energy to train a bunch of 15 odd blowhards who probably won't appreciate what you're teaching them anyway. The preparation of debate motions at 12 midnight, after Judo training (I've a small gash on my chest at the moment; I think it'll leave a scar).

Creating this debate club has been a fight from the start. I fought with the administration for about 6 odd months, and then I fought with certain factions of the English Department who didn't want to disturb the status quo (much less the creation of a new club), and then I had to make promises that the club would deliver a win sooner or later.

So the club got created, after a 2 period meeting with all the teachers of the English Department, the principal, the co-curricular administrator, and me. We settled our conflicting interests (somewhat), and in the end the school suggested a system that placed the debate club under the English Language Society, though with an independent board, independent meetings, and an independent leadership.

Which was very stupid, if you asked me, but I won't look a gift horse in the mouth. I took the package. I started recruiting. Then the trouble started.

Now I've to admit here that I know very little about leadership. You know the Prefectorial Board's claim to train you to be a leader? They're lying. Through their teeth. Being a leader's a whole lot different from playing games in a group and checking student uniforms at recess. It's all up to you: you make or break your organization. So I ran on my own power for the first few months.

But boundless energy does have its limits. I may be a so-so teacher, and I may be an above average debator, but put that together with State Judoka and STPM student and you've got a very tired boy on your hands. Ravin once said it seems, at times, that I eat coffee beans for breakfast. But guess what? Coffee-bean-hyper-boy grew up. I was Form 3 then, the world seemed a nicer, brighter place, and I didn't yet know the joys of doing 95kg deadlifts.

So I realized that I could not do this on my own. I talked to the Form 5s. And I made a mistake of thinking them all as Judokas. Dedicated, passionate, not lazy. No excuses. I forgot that they were typical Malaysians, and that none of them has had mental toughness drilled into them by a sport. You may think I'm boasting, or I'm an arrogant blowhard myself, but you try attending one of our Sukma sparring sessions. It's a thrown-and-get-up mentality, and no excuses for stopping a match, unless you've broken something. So far 5 people have broken something. Go figure.

So two Form 5s dropped out. Too many activities, too busy, excuse after excuse after excuse. I let them go. Nevermind. Still got Form 4s. I selected my board - my team - and it seemed the only thing I did right then was to choose Saravana as vice-president. He's coffee-bean-hyper and he's not afraid to stand up to me when I'm doing something wrong (or not doing something at all), and that's what I needed. I am grateful for Sara. A godsend.

The other Form 5s are good, passionate, serious debators. I can work with these people. We joke, we talk, and we argue. Though sometimes I think they don't understand what I'm saying, because I talk too fast. Always been a weakness of mine. My brain moves faster than my mouth and everything comes out a convoluted mess.

The people I cannot work with, however, are the Form 4s. They're not even serious. They come in and shoot all kinds of off-tangent, immature, unpolished points. They're all over the place. They start talking about gigolos when I'm discussing male vs female driving. It's partly my fault - I guess - I had too high expectations and I introduced the tough bits of debate to them too early.

We had a joint debate meeting with the Marians today. I went out and bombed my speech. And I was very, very pissed while creating the case and organizing the teams - most of the Form 4s had all done a bunk. Tuition, blah. Sports training, blah. Shut up and come without an excuse for once, can't you? This meeting's for you - I wanted you to feel how it is to go against a better, more articulate female trio.

And you can see what I've been doing wrong: I tried to do everything myself, at first. When that failed I got myself a team, but I did not communicate my plan and my vision to them. Heck, most of them don't even know how hard I've worked my ass off for the creation of the club, and for their training. And then after that I couldn't leverage these people, because they weren't on my side. They didn't get the whole picture. My fault again. And now? I don't know how to bloody hell get the Form 4s serious. To wake them up and say: 'hey, I'm working my butt off for you, what the shit are you doing for me? Or for your school?'

So it's more like a lack of communication, and a lack of leveraging teams. I've got Sara on my side now, that's something. And Paul, Rav and Aldrin have been godsends. They've come and adjudicated, and we've really learnt a lot of things from them. It's also slightly hard for me to train my juniors because I've always been a wildcard myself. I can save debates single-handed, and I can fail everyone and polarize the judges so badly we lose. And now I have to teach them all I know, and I realize most of this is ... what? Second nature? Inbred? I don't know. I'm not very good at teaching. How the hell do I explain my rebuttals come from a little voice in my head?

The important question is this: how am I going to make it right again? To make sure the debate club succeeds long after I leave the school? To ensure everyone gets a fair chance at learning something, rather than just the talented ones, the ones handpicked by Cikgu Orlnda, like during my time? I'm not a leader. Never have been, unless you count the times in social gatherings when everyone's bored and I take it into my hands to do something about that. And it's so friggin difficult. Head prefects have existing systems, and Interact presidents have adult attachment organizations helping them, teaching them. Me? There's no path for me to follow, no system for me to adhere to. And that is very liberating until you figure out it's you who's got to create the system.

I may not be a leader, I may completely be out of my depth, but I better start getting used to it. Because it's what I wanted. It's what I chose. Leader qualities or no, I am one.

And I better start acting like it.

Pak Lah Is Nice!

I am in my aunt's car, on the way back from Judo, and I am sweaty, smelly, and bandaged in all the usual places. I tap the white cloth tips of my fingers on her dashboard and the conversation turns to politics, as it usually does these few days after the opposition's unprecedented win in the parliamentary elections.

"It's such a pity about Khairy, you know." she is saying, "Everyone was hoping so much from him, and he still had to play the race card."

"It's easy." I reply. "You get instant support from the ultra-Malays that way."

"Yah of course it's easy. Even the dap does it -"

"The what?" I say

"D-A-P."

"Oh."

A pause. My aunt turns into Tabuan Jaya. Then: "Well the current hot topic now seems to be Badawi stepping down."

"Mahathir, right?"

"Yeah. It's Mahathir who wants him to step down."

"Which is kinda stupid! I mean, who else does he expect can take over? Najib?!"

"But Mahathir wants Najib to take over!" My aunt says, taking her eyes off the road for a second.

"What!? But Najib's an asshole!"

"And why do you say that?" Eyebrows raised.

"He's ugly!"

"And ...?"

I rack my brains for an answer. "He once said 'Parliament does not need opposition party because government MPs themselves can raise issues in sittings.' What kind of a stupid immature remark is that? Pak Lah will never say that!" I pause. "On the other hand, he never does say anything ..."

My aunt chuckles. "Well they do say he's weak and all. The nice guy ..."

We are turning into my lorong now, and there is silence in the car for awhile. Then:

"I just realized I said something very immature."

"What?"

I feel a grin spreading itself over my face: "Najib is ugly."