On Monday, August 31st, Daniel Berdichevsky sent an email out to their email list. This message probably went to tens of thousands of past participants and coaches as it seemed to have gone to our previous participants.
Dear Alpacas in Absentia,
I was waiting to send this next update until I had good news—and I finally do. Unfortunately, I waited so long that I now also have the other sort. But let’s start with something hopeful.
Earlier this month, a hundred students gathered in Gold Coast, Australia, for our first round since the world fell apart. It wasn’t a typical round, precisely. Only two of our staff could be there (because border closures) and there was no singing at the talent show (because aerosols). Schools that had planned to bring dozens of teams were limited to a few each, to keep enough seats empty in the theater. Those who did attend qualified for Global Rounds that remain the stuff offeverpost-vaccine dreams. But despite those obstacles it was also, in Joga’s words, a much-needed “breath of fresh air and normalcy”. There were alpacas, medals, and outdated references in the Bowl; there were cheers for Dunedin. All of us are so grateful to our host, Jacques, for finding a way to organize the round safely—and without compromising the spirit of the program, which is about bridging the distances between us.
With Gold Coast as an inspiration, we’d love to begin scheduling other rounds where safety considerations and border restrictions permit—for instance, most of our team can now enter Turkey and the UAE, and other countries are slowly reopening too, though we may not be allowed back in New Zealand until Biden’s second term. Please let us know if you’d like to start planning something.
But here’s the flip side: I need to ask your help. Gold Coast, like most of our regional rounds, ran at a significant loss—especially with numbers capped to allow social distancing. Each year we depend on revenue from our global events to make the local ones possible, and now we don’t know when the next Global Round or ToC will be. We’re looking at options to help us cover some of our costs until then—for instance, an online speech contest or practice quiz—but it’s unlikely they’d be enough to keep our team intact for long.So, after much hesitation, we’ve launched a GoFundMe, with no idea whether it will do more to help us endure this crisis or to undermine our credibility. We’d be grateful if you could share it with anyone who might be able to support the program, even in small ways. We’d also be happy to count any contributions now toward registration fees later.
I’ve accumulated some regrets over the last fourteen years—for one, I really wish we had set up a rainy-day fund for the end of the world. I would also have liked to meet the original Dave. But even in the hardest moments (hello, Mumbai II) I always appreciated how improbable and precious it all was. At closing ceremonies I would sometimes look out across a packed theater trying to absorb it all for safekeeping: the music, the screaming, the scholars running too quickly, my teammates hiding backstage to answer emails. I knew it couldn’t last forever. There would come a day when I was too old, even if the program outlasted me; I was already struggling to understand TikTok. But I also never imagined it all ending so abruptly—and the truth is I still don’t believe it will. Whatever happens with the GoFundMe, we’ll find a way to carry on, even if it means a ragtag few of us end up having to reboot the program with a Mini-Global Round on a decommissioned cruise ship.
I also know that we haven’t all met yet. For me, that’s one of the heartbreaks of this lost season; for many of you, it must mean that these emails assume an unearned intimacy. For that, I apologize. As an introvert, I never thought I could miss so many people, or feel so uncomfortable with the quiet. (Podcasts help to fill a bit of the quiet, at least; strangely, for the first time, Havana makes things worse.)
It’s taken me long enough to write and rewrite this email that there is now more to be sad about than when I started it. Thank you all so much for your patience and for the chance to share it and this community with you, even on a day when the world seems more imperfect than renewed.
Pwaakanda forever,
Daniel
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Daniel Berdichevsky
Alpaca-in-Chief
World Scholar's Cup
www.scholarscup.org
My thoughts and comments.
- The WSC website has had no updates on their covid page since May. At least 4 months have gone by. Maybe it took that many months for the money they had raked in for years to finally dry up. An upcoming post I will put on here will detail that WSC has very few actual employees and almost everyone is just a subcontractor.
- Daniel himself recognizes in writing that asking people for money like this "undermines" their "credibility". I'd say it goes beyond that. The only reward participants get is a pile of medals, a stuffed animal and an experience that may be seen as quite formative. For a lot less money you can go to Chuck-E-Cheese and get much of the same. After spending money to go to a local round, then the global and then maybe the event on the Yale campus, they still want money?
- Counting the money you give as a future deposit is putting a lot of faith that things will go back to the way they were. Some students won't see that in the rest of their HS career. Coronavirus has not even plateaued in some countries.
- If the WSC business model was so flawed that the majority of their events lost money, how is it wise for people to send money to them now?
- The goal was over a half-million dollars. Let me remind anyone new to this... WSC is a for-profit company that seems to be doing business in the State of California illegally. None of this money (or any of the money paid to participate) goes to even 1 dollar of a scholarship for a winner.
- Fortunately, it seems that even though they have abused our sharing of contact information for an unsolicited request from our families for money, they have received only $5,310 of it. as of September 24th, almost 1 month after sending the email.
