By its (slightly strange, quasi-academic, mildly competitive) nature, Academic Games attracts a wide variety of people. Some of these people are a pleasure to meet; indeed, some of my best friends today are people I have met through Academic Games. Others, however, are slightly less fun to interact with. My first two years of playing were at Lusher, where the coach, Uday, was a Tulane student and some of my teammates’ mothers were very involved in their sons’ Academic Games career. Almost inevitably, this situation devolved into a power struggle with Uday in one corner and Jackson, Eli, and their mothers in the other, my mother and I tragically stuck in the middle. This mess of a situation became so melodramatic that my mother and I took to calling the whole affair “The Real Housewives of Academic Games,” but it gave me valuable experience in dealing with politically unstable situations. I was rendered unable to say anything too supportive of either side to Jackson or Eli, knowing that any expression of allegiance would drag me further into the mess; this lesson has proved invaluable in other sensitive situations and, presumably, will continue to be helpful. Additionally, I have learned to interact with people that I, if not for our chance meeting, would not want to talk to. In Academic Games, contestants are divided into groups …show more content…
The New Orleans branch of the national Academic Games organization plays four “games”: two math games, one language game, and a history game. Of these, the math and language games require quite a bit of innate skill; that is, they are set up so that some people are naturally better at them and practice, while beneficial, is mostly ineffective. The fourth game, Presidents, though, is one where only hard work, hours of study, and hundreds of flashcards lead to success. My first year of playing, I did not want to practice Presidents or put in the hard work necessary to score well. Consequently, I did not get a good score: At Nationals that year, I tied for eighty-eighth place. The next year, I decided, would be different. I started preparing months in advance. I read my American History textbook from front to back; then, I read it again. As Nationals approached, my mother read me practice questions nightly. Truly, the only things that separated Rocky’s training from mine were sport, steps, and Survivor. Malcolm Gladwell’s bestselling book posits that ten thousand hours of practice are necessary to become an expert at something, and I may well have spent ten thousand hours studying for Presidents. By the time Nationals rolled around, I was supremely prepared. No fun fact caught me unawares, no cabinet secretary escaped my grasp: My hard work was paying off. And, sure enough, it