Jack Ludtke
Business Manager
At the end of November, I was fortunate enough to go with the NCHS Model UN team to compete in PMUNC, which is Princeton University’s annual MUN conference. Even though I was looking forward to all the debate and fun that MUN always brings, I’d be lying if I wasn’t ready to (in the most respectful way possible) kick some butt in my committee.
As anybody who has gone through first semester senior year can understand, these last few months have been brutal in every respect, and I felt like I needed a win. I felt that winning an award at Princeton would do a lot to help me get over the fall. Needless to say, after I loaded up the bus with enough food to last us a month, I was more than ready to jump into this conference.
Every conference is different, but PMUNC is always in an upscale Hilton in central Jersey than has the double function of hosting all the committees and the delegates themselves. I was going to be competing in a Civil War crisis committee as a member of the Confederate cabinet, along with two people that I had known for years.
This kind of experience is what I consider history nerd Nirvana; just me and fifteen other people in a room in a contest of rhetoric, writing, and tactical maneuvering. The crisis aspect of the room was especially cool; there were literally three Princeton students in another room thinking up different scenarios that they could throw at us in order to push our mental limits. Despite this somewhat onerous roadblock, I was sure that I could impress them enough to get what everybody wanted: that Best Delegate Award for the room.
To say that I underestimated the people in my room would be an understatement. On top of the two New Canaan delegates that that brought their considerable A-game, everybody in that room had successful MUN careers and were formidable debaters. My biggest concern however was a girl who sat next to me, who took no time in playing the intimidation card. After sitting down and making pleasant conversation for a few minutes, she proceeded to pull out a four-inch binder of highlighted articles, two sticky-noted books, and a real civil war pocket watch and stovepipe hat. She was representing the Secretary of State Robert Toombs, and put my measly one-inch binder of information to shame.
As soon as debate began, she began to live up to her research. She debated like a pro, knew her stuff, and was writing directives and portfolio actions at a speed that would put the Energizer bunny to shame. Everybody knew that she was the dominant force in the room, and she knew that. In no uncertain terms, she was the definition of a power player.
That all changed on the Saturday of the conference (day three out of four). Suspiciously, someone in the room had tried to frame the diplomat to England with the act of treason. Obviously upset, she demanded that the saboteur come forward and immediately resign. After a lengthy process of checking handwriting, it was determined that Toombs was the person who had committed the crime. After a few tense minutes of questions, Toombs broke down, stood up, and gave her reason for her actions. I’m not going to repeat what she said, but I’ll tell you that it resulted in a surprised reaction from all, followed by a very awkward minute of silence. After much coughing and shuffling papers, our red-faced chair dismissed the allegations and continued on with other matters.
Toombs was crushed. Her five second outburst had undoubtedly put her out of contention for an award, and made people in the room not want to work with her. At this point, I was feeling like a jerk. Before the outburst, I had been opposing Toombs at every turn and trying to screw up her plans. But I saw now that she was clearly going through something, and I felt guilty that I had only made a bad situation worse.
Because of this, I sent her an apology note passed under the table. She read it, put my note in her wallet, and sent me back a note with only two words: Thank you. I worked with Toombs for the rest of the weekend, and I slowly came to realize that her outburst wasn’t just some momentary thing; she had genuinely felt overwhelmed by everything, and our questioning had put her over the edge. The room after that went smoothly and I learned a lot about the Civil War and how people felt during time period. And at the end of the conference, I even won third place in the room, behind two delegates that I knew deserved every inch of the awards they received.
Now I don’t pretend to have had my entire outlook on life overturned because of this one weekend, but this experience with Toombs reminded me to put things in perspective. Though I was having what I felt was a rough fall, and a time in which I thought I needed a win, she was going through a time that was a lot worse than mine. This taught me that we all need to keep our lives in perspective. School and the college process are very important, but it is not make-or-break for the rest of my life, or your life. I ignored the fact that I really was fortunate to have the opportunity to go to school, to live in a real house, and to be living life. Instead of moaning about all those Euro notes I had to do, I instead should have been happy to be growing up in a town like New Canaan. I lost perspective, and my weekend with Toombs and PMUNC 2012 reminded me that no matter how much homework I have, I need to remember all the things that we are lucky to experience.
