Educational Decisions: General, College-Prep, A.P. or College Credit Plus?

     As students begin to think ahead to their next high school year, the question of which classes to take becomes so important: General, College-Prep, Advanced Placement (A.P.), or College-Credit Plus (formally known as Post-Secondary)? (I should stress that I am deliberately avoiding the Career Center option for this blog; that topic will be discussed in a later writing.) Each choice should represent a well thought-out process that clearly serves as preparation for the students' futures. Given my experience from having taught English in all the above mentioned classes at both the high school and the college levels, I am offering my view to perhaps assist students and parents in making their decisions.

   
      Addressing the "General" track (defined as those classes that are considered to be the most general and least challenging in respective academic departments), I am comfortable saying that choice is fine for allowing students to get through high school without major academic challenges. As for strong preparation for a four-year college, though, this track will most likely provide the least opportunity to succeed when college begins. The reason is quite simple: these "regular" classes provide instruction in basic concepts without going into great detail and expectations. Yes, the students can still be accepted into college--that really is not that difficult. However, the question of will the students remain in college for the entire four years so frequently is determined by their preparation in high school. When the college demands begin and the writing expectations become increasingly demanding, the challenge often becomes overwhelming. I am not saying students will be unsuccessful in college if they follow a "regular" high school track; what I am saying is that the road gets tougher for those who have chosen to avoid the harder high school classes. From my seat, if a student is planning to attend a four-year college, he or she should get out of the "General" track and into a College-Prep track!

   
      Regarding the "College-Prep" track (defined just as the label implies), I am confident that a significant challenge awaits. While the classes may be intimidating to many, the key is to think long term. What matters is not what grade is earned in high school but what students truly learn to benefit their futures. If planning on attending those four-year schools mentioned previously, students need to accept this challenge and get themselves prepared!

   
     The real dilemma that is popular today is the A.P. (defined as an advanced study of a particular discipline, designed to equate with a college-level curriculum) vs. College Credit Plus (defined as being a college student while still in high school) debate--a tough question, but, truthfully, one that each individual must determine if that is what he or she wants. Understanding the College Credit Plus program is relatively simple: Students receive college credit by either taking a class at a local university, or they receive dual credit in their high school if the instructor of certain courses has met standards set by the Ohio Department of Education. From my seat, here is how I view the dilemma.

   
     The College Credit Plus option certainly has merit--particularly if the students are being taught a rigorous curriculum. In truth, though, the guiding philosophy reflects our society's values: let's get more as soon as we can. Whether the student is prepared--academically and socially--does not always enter the picture. While teaching in high school, I taught a few high school students who attended KSU Tusc. and were solidly prepared . . . but they were the exception. Most of the kids who considered the retired Post-Secondary program really were not anywhere near ready. They might have liked the challenge, they might have liked the freedom from high school rules, they might have liked having Fridays off, or they might just have liked that somebody else was paying for their education. Again, I stress that not all students have the same reason for attending: It is an individual decision.

   
     Academically, most all high school juniors need more preparation for college work; many kids attend a college campus and take 10000 or 20000 level course work--practically all these college courses are beneath the level of an A.P. curriculum. Yes, of course, the classes' rigor does depend on the quality of the teachers--make no mistake about that. However, the A.P. curriculum is a year-long controlled environment that has been set up through years of preparation; most college-level introductory classes are a semester in length (most meeting no more than three days per week) with a wide variety of students, many of whom are ill-prepared. In most A.P. curriculums, students have weeded themselves out, and the environment consists mostly of high achieving kids. Translated, college instructors can set high expectations if they desire, but most beginning college classes are controlled by the middle, meaning that if many students are struggling the pace of the class is slowed considerably. Please keep this point in mind: college professors know that they cannot give too many low or failing grades--it reflects negatively on their teaching, which may ultimately affect their employment. As a result, many 10000 and 20000 classes are not necessarily "advanced," and the grading is adjusted accordingly.

   
     College professors will attest that--in so many cases--they cannot believe how poorly prepared their students are; however, many of those same students will end up with high grades in an introductory college classroom--hard to believe, isn't it? College, in many ways, is a money game; of course, college enrollment, with a few exceptions, is still borderline high. The reasons, perhaps, could be because the economy is still tough and people are returning to school to learn a new skill or to begin a different career; it could also be, though, that more and more high school kids are enrolling--the more students enrolled, the better we (college) look. If we (college) make it attractive, we (college) look good. With experience as my teacher, I am becoming more convinced that when students leave high school early to attend college, it is more about getting bodies in the seats rather than kids being ready for that academic challenge.

     

    I certainly respect the College Credit Plus philosophy--particularly the dual enrollment aspect--because for a select number of kids it is a viable option. For them, I say go for it. However, I remain unconvinced that a college freshman class offers a stronger curriculum than what a high school A.P. program does. Another anecdote that might be of interest is that while I was teaching high school, I yearly tracked high school students' ACT scores; interestingly, the Post-Secondary students scored consistently lower than the A.P. kids.

   
    My final point regarding the push for high school kids to receive college credit is this: In the long run, what does it accomplish? Getting into the workforce sooner? What is so great about that? Kids are kids only one time--they have the rest of their lives to be adults. I do not see the rush of getting there sooner than their peers. Like Donald Trump, whose corporations have declared bankruptcy four times, brags, he plays within the rules our country has established; from my seat, I see many students begin college early so someone else can pay the bill or they can avoid the harder high school classes and teachers. They are playing within the rules our state has established--I get it. 

     However, is that option advancing our society, or is it just another means to politically sidestep challenging standards? From my seat, the second option is clearly the motivation!

Our Tolerance

Scribbled on my yellow Post-It note are the following words:
     Our tolerance for everything has produced an unwillingness to restrict anything.

     I have no idea where I stole that from or when I stole it, but I do know that it certainly strikes a chord for me. As I am prone to do, when I encounter a news article, a quotation, or a picture that intrigues me, I cut it out and put it into a file--might sound boring, I realize, but from time to time I encounter situations that trigger a response connecting to one of those cutouts. Today I am sharing one that relates to many situations alive and well in our society.

 

     With each passing month, I suppose my resistance to change lessens just a bit. My occasional "anal-retentive" drive to do so much the right way occasionally shrinks to a "so what" approach. Desiring to follow a set routine marked by a daily to-do list is more frequently reduced to an "I'll do it tomorrow" approach. People tell me I have earned the right to do so, yet I remain somewhat unconvinced. I have routines that I enjoy because they provide me satisfaction at day's end, so forcing me to break away is sometimes a struggle. In short, I do not "tolerate" change simply for change's sake. What I am observing, though, is that it often is easier to simply surrender and accept . . . a task I find difficult to do.

 

     The world is whizzing by faster than I sometimes can understand. Morals, styles, laws--so much, so fast--frequently leave me shaking my head in amazement and often amusement. Do we say "whoa" to anything, or do we just accept the world as it is changing?

 

     As I am writing  and re-reading my words, I sense that I am sounding like an old codger saying that the world is going to hell. In truth, I am struggling this afternoon trying to make my point. Perhaps it would be better if I just dropped the lead-in and got to my focus:

 

*We accept swearing in so many diverse situations that it almost seems natural to hear what many may consider offensive; in particular, the "f-bomb" is treated like an acceptable word; trust me when I tell you that I am no angel, but I do understand parameters of what is and what is not acceptable. However, our guards have dropped, and that is life today.

 

*We accept a society where we find it perfectly acceptable to criticize our country's leaders; in a time where we desire cohesion and loyalty, we instead feel so free--thanks to the ease of social media--to blatantly criticize, ridicule, and demean those same people who were elected to represent us. Our guards have dropped, and that is life today.

 

*We accept the bandwagon jumping that goes along with people's criticism of police, and we are so often guilty of following the loudest critic in the room--whether that voice has any logic to it or not. Our guards have dropped, and that is life today.

 

*We accept that public decorum is left to the individual rather than what is acceptable to others; wearing pants way low in the back, showing as much skin as possible,  . . . the list goes on. To say something, of course, is considered by many to be an act of invasion, so we just go about our way. Our guards have dropped, and that is life today.

 

*We accept the apathy toward the English language, considering it to be no big deal that our writing skills are deteriorating at a rapid pace. Our guards have dropped, and that is life today.

 

*We accept that walking with headsets on limits conversation with others in a world where interaction is needed more than ever. Eye contact and personal conversation suffer . . . , and we often wonder why. Our guards have dropped, and that is life today.

 

*We accept that eating in a restaurant or even in our homes has no bearing on whether we are checking our cell phone or interrupting conversation . . . the "so what" attitude seems to prevail. Our guards have dropped, and that is life today.

 

     More examples could certainly be provided, but the snowball rolling down the hill analogy seems to fit. Because of our almost-blind acceptance of practically all behavior, I sense an unwillingness to restrict much of anything. At what point do we step up and say, "Enough!" It is so easy for us to criticize, yet it is so hard to actually combat deteriorating behaviors. Certainly, I am not advocating physical confrontation, but I am stressing that if we--the adults--do not occasionally point out flaws,  this tolerance will continue to worsen . . . and that, my friends, scares the hell out of me.

To read all my blog entries, please go to michaelagunther.blogspot.com.

"A Sign of an Intelligent Person Is . . ."

"My kid is not reading that book; there's swearing in it!"    

 

As formal academic progress once again resumes, along with it comes the opportunity to assess the learning that occurs in our children's classrooms. Many, of course, welcome the educational opportunities presented to today's kids, yet, somehow, a certain percentage question the motives behind change and intellectual discussion. Before the "attack" season begins, though, I would like to offer my two cents regarding an issue dear to English teachers' hearts: teaching controversial literature.

 

     Many feel that a public school is not the place for discussion of controversial matters. I, however, vehemently disagree. A classroom is a center of intellect, a place for intelligent discussion about a variety of matters--some controversial, some not. By teaching a novel, a teacher and the school are not endorsing the topic; rather, they are providing a forum for mature conversation. My experiences have shown me that my students shine when given the opportunity to present their views; although not all are in agreement, that is the beauty of the discussions. Those who hold differing views are provided the opportunity to voice their concerns, their opposition, their reality . . . without the fear of being ridiculed or humiliated. That is what education is: learning!

 

     My classroom has been the center of tremendous discussions, ones that have made my students think . . . and that is exactly what I have attempted to create. I do not want today's students to be programmed to accept only one perspective; instead, I want them to listen, to process, and to rationalize. It is not of importance to me that in literature discussions that students are merely reiterating the basic elements of literature. Literature is meant to make one think. Many parents, I realize, are threatened by that. Their opposition is usually based upon three key triggers: swearing is present, the Lord's name has been taken in vain, and sex is mentioned. I hear that argument, but I must counter by asking if those same parents think that is what is being discussed in class? That the teacher is encouraging the teenagers to swear, to take the Lord's name in vain, and to have sex? If so, that thinking is quite shallow and way off the mark.

 

     So often, the reaction is immediate: we do not want our children to think on their own. Rather, we want them to be staunch advocates of our own selves. As a parent, I recognize this, but I also recognize that my wife and I could protect our daughters only so far. Our children grew up in the Catholic faith, and we would like to believe that with their moral upbringing that we laid a strong foundation for their adult lives. However, my wife and I wanted our daughters exposed to so many aspects of life including the realities of "the other side of life." They realized that exposure did not warrant endorsement. I share this personal story only to make my point: we wanted them to think on their own; they knew our family values, and they understood what was acceptable and what was not. We did not expect them to be like my wife or me; of course, we privately hoped that they would share a few of our attributes, but we trusted their maturity to develop their own views. That is what life experiences are like. Reading controversial novels is no different. Without a doubt, I would much rather have had my own children intellectually discuss a controversial matter in a structured environment being led by a trained professional than I would have on their own with their peers  . . . and, believe me, they did . . . and their conclusions may have had no rationality to them at all!

 

     I will conclude my explanatory comments by making what I perceive to be an extremely relevant point: I would ask all critics of any novel to perform one task before attacking a book: Read the novel! Those who evaluate the novel based upon looking at a few pages and forming a rock-solid opinion are missing the point: As decreed by the Supreme Court in 1973, a piece of literature cannot be considered "obscene" if only select pages are scrutinized. Rather taken as a whole are the key words that dictate a writing's value. It is impossible to discuss the merits of a book if only a few pages have been reviewed. Again, I stress that a critic must read the entire book. Until that happens, intellectual discussion cannot be held . . . and that is exactly what we expect from our students. We want them to intellectually judge the novels and their lessons . . . but that cannot be done if only part of the book has been read!

     The answer to the question posed in this entry's title is quite simple to me: "The sign of an intelligent person is one who is able to view all sides of an issue before voicing an opinion." Do I expect conformity with my thoughts? Of course not, but what I hope is that our high school students recognize the importance of critical independent thinking. As their adult lives unfold, that thinking becomes their moral and intellectual guide!

About This Running . . .

Getting older every day . . . how do we stop that aging train?

Story time first: I am a runner. I have run since I was 12; safe to say that I have a passion for it. While many may view running as a waste of time and energy, I see it through a different lens. What I see is a way to stay healthy even though I have paid a significant physical price over the years to sustain my passion. For years, I have run marathons, 1/2 marathons, 10Ks,  . . . you get the picture. Without belaboring the point, what readers need to know is that running is a key part of my life . . . but why?

I have paid the price for all that pavement banging: foot surgery, low back issues, intermittent knee pain, torn ankle ligaments have all been part of my life. A sane man may say "back away, boy, and try something else." The response is simple: I have. I bike, I use an elliptical, I ride stationary bikes, and I lift (sometimes)--all activities I enjoy--but running is where my passion lies. When I participate in road races, I see aging runners still hard at it, many of them just kicking my butt, and I walk away admiring the tenacity that they possess. I suppose privately I hope I can still run at an advanced age, but I do quasi-understand that at a point my body will give up and break down completely. I don't want to think about that.

When I run today, I realize I cannot go as fast as I would like. Never a speed demon, I could always compete within my age group; today, it is a rare occasion where that can occur. Given that, however, I love the competition. It would be easy for me to say that I just run, not caring about where I finish. Trust me, I'm lying. I do care; I love the thrill of seeing others running in front of me and the pursuit of them. I love the feeling of going faster as the race progresses; I love the thrill of passing people and gaining spots; I love the feeling of exhaustion when the race is completed, knowing that if I have something left in the tank then I have cheated myself during the run. I love the camaraderie that accompanies the races. In short, I love the hunt.

In truth, what I really love is the isolation of running. As I train, my mind wanders in many different directions, allowing me to organize, to vent, to categorize, and to analyze. Many times I set out to run three miles and end up at six simply because my body is in sync those days. When I'm done, I check my weight, knowing that with the juvenile eating habits I possess (what's wrong with a row of thin Oreos?) that my running has kept me in somewhat of a balance. Running is a passion for me.

On the downside, I get out of bed every morning with achy feet and knees, struggling to straighten up without my lower back hurting. Once the "blood gets pumping," the creakiness subsides, and I'm on my way . . . making sure I walk down steps a bit more carefully so as not to hurt my feet! Many days I say "why?"

The answer is simple: I want to fight Father Time, and I don't want to get overweight (despite my little puff belly that just won't die!). I don't know what is inside me making me abuse myself on the roads. It could be argued, using an ol' cliché, that the "butter dun slid off my biscuits," implying that my sanity level is a bit off center. Whatever the reason, I, and others like me, get out of bed and run; many run at their lunch break while others wait until their day is complete and hit the road. It's a curse, I guess, but I salute those who are willing to make those commitments.

My point? It's quite simple: being energetic does not come naturally to most people, myself included. It requires dedication, encouragement, and personal pride. I suppose most anyone could do it, but that is a big "suppose"; of course, many live with daily physical impairments that prevent any such exercise. However, I suspect that most of us do not exercise because we either don't care to or we are simply too lazy or too tired to make the effort. It all begins with that first step . . . many who think others will laugh at their over-weight efforts are so wrong. When I see someone attempting to exercise, that person immediately grabs my attention and respect because I know how hard it is to do so.  Folks, we live in an obese society, but it doesn't have to be that way for everyone. Running, briskly walking, or any another viable exercise of choice--bending our elbows does not count, by the way--can begin whenever we get the courage to do it.

Obviously, I don't know what the future holds as far as my running, but I do know that as long as the body cooperates with my mind, I will be motoring along the roads trying to convince myself that I am still 25!

I Wonder If . . .

As the summer flickers by, I am wondering . . . wondering

*if Donald Trump were a person of color, would anyone really listen to him? Clearly, he is voicing what the boys at Limby's or Dorey's might say sitting at the bar, but my hunch is that mainstream Americans would probably see him as making racist, unacceptable comments. Trump is obviously Caucasian, wealthy, successful, and outspoken; granted, his comments are not as far off the wall as many would like us to believe, but, because of his pedigree, we seem all too eager to endorse his views. If an Al Sharpton were to say the exact same words, I seriously doubt that we would agree with him. The reason is obvious, isn't it? The underlying "elephant in the room" is racism. I am convinced that much of the opposition to our current President is his skin color, unfortunate as it is for me to write those words. Trump is white, so many hop on his wagon. For too long, I have heard this comment regarding President Obama: "I'm not prejudiced, but . . ."--you fill in the blanks. Seems to me that the "but" carries a powerful undercurrent that disguises many white Americans' not-so-public feelings.

 

*if the Browns could successfully build a winning franchise if they would just give a head coach and his staff four years to jell. This season will be interesting; in all likelihood, the record will not indicate significant improvement, but I have to believe that a "building" culture must be allowed to materialize. When a city as starved as Cleveland suffers through another long year, the coaches take the criticism. For once, I would love to see the owner turn a deaf ear to fans regardless of the season victory totals and say, "This coach is our man, and we are sticking with him." Yep, Mr. Haslam is saying that today after a few days of training camp, but I hope he is still saying it in December . . . and meaning it.

 

*if professional sports are in significant need of dramatic changes. Football's injury lists are sad to see, particularly with the catastrophic injuries that occur more frequently every year; basketball is a close second as our own Cavaliers can attest; and baseball's all-too-common arm blowouts are devastating to the sport. Perhaps shorter seasons could be an answer, but I am perplexed by what appears to be a contradictory belief: professional athletes today are stronger than they have ever been and have the best workout regimens, diets, and flexibility training. So, the logical conclusion would be that the percentage of athletes being severely injured would be reduced; however, the opposite has occurred with injury numbers climbing every sports season. Is it possible that the mantra of "lift, lift, lift--get bigger, get stronger" has created a monster, one that exceeds the human body's capabilities particularly when the strong meet the strong?

 

*if we truly understand the complexity of a policeman/woman's job. Today, of course, an officer's every move is under the proverbial microscope. Granted, as in any profession, rogues exist in uniform; however, we must also understand that much--not all--of a peacekeeper's job is dealing with the "scum"--those who have little if any respect for authority. Certainly, we talk tough after the fact about what should have been done, but given the split-second thinking and reacting that those officers must perform is  something few of us could do. I also must stress that to perform these duties, the financial reward is almost embarrassing. Translated, we ask "cops" (as the term most frequently used) to not make a mistake, to not embarrass people, and to not profile anyone--and I am not just talking about race when I mention profiling. Additionally, we ask them to do this while not making as much money as a bulldozer operator. Something seems out of whack, doesn't it?

 

*if Dover's citizens realize that we just lost an excellent superintendent, but we have the great fortune of having a successor who is equally qualified. I have said it many times, but a person in charge is living in "rare air"--the friends become fewer, the opponents become larger, and the criticism becomes more frequent. Such is the case when a person is a school administrator whose salary and benefits are public knowledge because that information immediately creates opposition. It intrigues me when criticism is leveled at school administrators; their task is to maintain the ship and do what is right for all parties involved: students, employees, and taxpayers. If a person were to examine Dover's record, that person would see excellence in many areas, including financial responsibility. Of course, many will not believe me--check the records, my friends: those are facts, not opinions. The future of the system is in strong hands with responsible leadership in both the top job and the assistant superintendent. Will the issue of a new school again surface? Of course! It was not a Bob Hamm thing; it's a Dover thing. . . and I don't want to wait until the crumbling begins to say, "Hey, we should have done something before this like to maintain the building" (as I have heard many times). Check the facts, my friends--before we spout off about how "a custodian told me that they haven't done anything . . . ," it might be a good idea to actually find out just how much has been spent on that high school building. Again, before we settle on our opinions, let's make sure we know the facts.

 

*if the Common Core opponents are pleased that the accompanying tests have been temporarily abandoned. I would think they are because the teachers certainly are! As I have written previously, the excessive number of tests was a central issue; if the Core is studied, don't be surprised if we find out that it has a strong base. Again, from my seat, the Core is not a problem; we need standards, and we need them enforced. Remember my comment two paragraphs above about rogues? In the teaching profession, unfortunately, random rogues can be found as well. By having standards that are consistent, teachers are obligated to teach certain material, but they are not stuck teaching only that material--teachers still have the freedom to go beyond the Core! For those who are opposed to the Core and know only a limited bit about it, please recognize that, educationally, it holds strong value. As stated in an earlier blog, just give it time to be implemented and perfected--change does not come about without opposition, but it does not mean that change is necessarily wrong.

 

*if you are still reading. You must be, so thanks! Many have commented that they have enjoyed reading my material--I do appreciate it. At my "core," I am just a T-County boy who enjoys life and enjoys writing--thanks again for your support!

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Words and Apathy

I'm drooling right now . . . figuratively.

     The masquerading, the posturing, the bragging, the personal attacks that are associated with the presidential campaigning are all in my wheelhouse! Allow me to explain.

     I teach rhetoric and writing at Walsh University, which by itself may not sound overly exciting, but for one who enjoys watching how people try to persuade others to share their perspectives, it is a welcome challenge. Rhetoric, in its simplest form, means the art of persuading. It does not matter if it is a billboard, an advertisement, a plea for financial assistance, or a plan to be elected, all of us are involved in rhetorical situations. So, when a guy like Donald Trump enters the political arena taking on the entire country to subscribe to his beliefs, he provides a wonderful teaching opportunity. In short, Trump is a poster child for my classroom; putting him--and others--under the ol' classroom microscope is perfect for me . . . like I said, it's right in my wheelhouse.

     To preface my perspective, I must stress that I am an Independent voter; I do not cater to the whims of either the Democratic or Republican parties simply because for years I have found their political posturing to be rather humorous and downright frustrating. "Drinking the tea" can oftentimes lead to people believing in extremes . . . that is not me. Rather, I draw my own line down the middle, allowing my reading and my viewing to shape my perspective. Having said that, I am comfortable examining the political views of many without a built-in bias. My main perspective, though, is to examine the tactics that are used by individuals and groups to sway their audiences. Trump, for example, is almost comical in a few respects because of his outright brashness and his criticism of everybody and everything; his popularity is quite high at the moment, probably because he is saying what many want to hear. In time, though, I suspect his act will grow old--we can only be told that someone is richer than us so many times before we begin to tune out everything he is saying. For the moment, though, Trump is running a masterful campaign: He has people's attention; he is speaking in an inflammatory, hard-to-ignore manner; and he is serving as a welcome alternative to his competitors. Right now, he has his audience . . . what more could a politician want? How his game goes from here, however, will be interesting; when he is forced to debate the truthfulness of his comments and when he is backed into a corner with skilled politicians and questioners where he must rely on more than just outlandish rhetoric, his money will not be of great benefit.

     My point is this: Watching the politicians from both political parties stake their claims provides a great classroom opportunity for learning. For parents whose kids are preparing for their high school curriculum (Common Core) and for kids preparing for their college writing classes, here is a golden opportunity to learn--watch and analyze how people shape arguments to their advantage. That is a significant part of the English Core and also college freshmen writing classes. My contention for a long time is that we learn best from our everyday experiences more so than a textbook. Maybe if we ignore party doctrine and spend time objectively watching and listening, we could all learn from the slowly approaching election!

                                                                        . . . . .

     On the other hand, though, all the posturing may not matter that much. For whatever reasons we wish to choose, a growing number of people in our country are apathetic and simply do not take the time to vote. So, while candidates travel, speak, and spend their way to a hoped-for victory, one of the most common sense parts of the process is often overlooked: many people simply do not register to vote! Apathy is alive and well, believe me; opinions are held by everyone, but they really mean little. If we don't register to vote, we are not entitled to be listened to. Bottom line is we need to be informed and part of the process, don't we?

Delmar Clark . . . A Racing Legend!

I love automobile racing . . . always have.

 

    The smell of heated rubber, the screeching of the tires, the occasional banging of fenders, the slingshot moves of experienced drivers, the waving of the flag, the cheers and jeers of the fans . . . it's all a sliver of paradise to this boy.

 

     For me, it began before I had even attended school. My dad started my passion by taking me every Sunday evening to Midvale Speedway to watch the races. We had our set seats, our predetermined arrival time, and our matching enthusiasm. Getting out of that car and walking toward the track, I still remember getting excited just hearing the roars of the cars as they made their hot laps in anticipation of the time trials. As we sat and watched, I was thrilled to see the two different kinds of cars: the super modifieds and the late model stock cars, all being steered by drivers whose names and faces I can still see in my mind. As the modifieds circled the track, they produced a different sound than the late models, a buzzing sound that clearly said "speed." Joe Martincic, Baldy Baker, Dean Mast, Norm Saul . . . the list goes on--all heroes in my book. However, as happy as I was to watch them and try to pick the winners with my dad, nothing made me happier than when the legendary blue Harry Humphries' Ford  with the red and white number 69 came onto the track--Delmar Clark was in the house, ready to kick ass and take a few names.

 

     My admiration for Delmar was easy to trace--he was from my hometown of Gnadenhutten, and his wife played in my mom's card club. Occasionally, he would have his stock car parked outside his apartment, which enabled a crazed fan like me to get to see it up close as it sat on the hauling trailer. For me, the thrill of getting to actually see Delmar and say "hi" was a major moment. In fact, on one occasion, my dad arranged for both of us to visit Delmar and his wife's apartment so I could see his trophies. I was awestruck as we entered that second floor Main Street apartment, and I saw his trophy case . . . blew me away. When a kid meets his idol for the first time, it is a moment never forgotten. Fifty-plus years later, I still remember it so vividly.

 

     Obviously, Delmar was my man; when that car emerged from the pits on the opposite side of the stands, I always told my dad, "Here he comes!" and my dad would say, "I don't think ol' Delmar has got it today," thus sparking our competition. More days than not, ol' Delmar would pick up that checkered flag and take it around the track, and we would smile, clap, and yell . . . great days, my friends. The classic battles with Bud Middaugh, Doc Kinsey, Virgil Tinlin, Tony Diano, Bill Bitticker . . . remain strong reminders of what it felt like to be a kid with innocent and simple joys. I lived for Sunday nights, and as I rode my bike repeatedly in the yard around the house and often made our driveway and garage a race track, I had one vision: race like Delmar.

 

     As life moved along, my dad didn't enjoy the racing as much as I did, so he stopped attending. In need of a ride, I would often go to the track with Delmar's mom and dad, who had as much passion as I did for the sport. At times, of course, I even got to go with Delmar and his wife because they had moved up the road not too far from our house. His living closer added a different bonus; every now and then, he would bring his car to Gnaden instead of leaving it wherever it normally was parked during the week and he would work on it and then go streaking down County Road 39 right in front of my house, making that baby scream . . . I loved it.

 

     Delmar's career was pretty special for a small-town boy because he made it all happen within viewing distance of a whole bunch of local fans. His racing success at Midvale, Barberton, Columbus, and Sandusky ultimately led to his driving the number 21 in a Daytona ARCA Series race; unfortunately, he rolled his car several times at that superspeedway, and, in truth, his racing success soon came to a halt. In time, he even became a friend, a guy I would stop in and see every now and then at his body shop. Ultimately, though, Delmar passed away, and when he did, I got out all my pictures and every newspaper article I had of his big wins, and I looked back over them--he truly was a special man to me.

 

     Every now and then, I will see Mark Malcuit, another legendary area driver who came after Delmar, and I tell him, "There's the second best driver to ever come out of Tuscarawas County--Delmar was the man." He doesn't even know who I am, but he always laughs, and says, "Yeah, he was a good one"--guess I still am a bit crazed!

 

     Here's hoping a few of my readers can put a smile on their faces and remember those magic days of racing. As for this boy, I confess to looking at the speedway every time we head down Route 250, just hoping I can see cars practicing (sometimes even rolling down my window so I can hear the roar!). I still periodically attend Midvale Speedway and enjoy the shows, but, for me, the downright thrill will never be the same. That vested enthusiasm for a single driver fueled my passion . . . I hope that there are kids out there who are like me when I was a kid . . .watching those cars go in circles, keeping their eyes on their favorite drivers, and cheering like crazy for them . . . here's hoping they enjoy the ride as much as I did!

 

Goodbye . . . and Thanks

I lost a friend yesterday.

     Saying Ray was my best friend would be an overstatement. Saying he was a good friend would be much more appropriate. Regardless of the adjective used, the loss humbles me for many reasons. He was a buddy, and, as life unfolds, I realize that in my future I will be forced to face this same scenario more times than I wish to think.

 

     Unfortunately, the end of life is out there . . . we know that, even though we do everything in our power to avoid thinking of it. Two months ago, my buddy Ray Stein was living a carefree, happy life as a husband, dad, and grandpa, enjoying all the freedom that retirement could offer. Two months later, he is gone. Two months later, I feel an emptiness, almost a feeling of disbelief.

 

     Ray was a good man, a helper to many, a military veteran, a dedicated police officer, and a true comic relief. As my brief eulogy, I honor him as a man who not only wore many hats, but as a man who wore them well--he was well liked and well respected, and I thoroughly enjoyed him. I suppose I could continue with praise, but that is not my objective with this writing. What I once again was reminded of yesterday is that living is a treasure.

 

     At yesterday's funeral, I saw friends I have not seen in a long while, ones who took the time to pay respect to Ray. I must admit that mixed with my sadness was a euphoric feeling of being with old friends, ones I spent my college years with and ones who could spin tales that need not be repeated in this blog. However, that is my point: I was with my friends.

 

     At the risk of sounding melancholy, I stood in that funeral home and watched the faces of people I have known for many years. Easy to say that we are past our youth, well into our middle age, and leaning against the door of old age. Each of us, of course, was alone with our thoughts, but I have to believe we were all thinking the same at one point or another: when is it going to happen to me? No, I am not paranoid about the eventual, but funerals have a tendency to rattle us to our core because we know the next one could be us, a friend, or a family member. In my case, it shook me especially seeing the reaction of another longtime friend who truly was saddened, who realized that he had lost a true pal.

 

     I write this blog because I love to write; as I have stated, I have opinions and logic, but sometimes I bear my soul. For what reason, I am not positive, but, if I am feeling something, I have to think that others are as well. Obviously, I am not enjoying writing this today, but I feel almost moved to do so. In my life, I have been gifted to have many friends; I consider myself a fortunate man--with a loving family and loyal friends, how can a guy complain? When I am with my buddies, I feel so comfortable--the thought of not having them a phone call away scares me, to be blunt. Again, the key word is "comfortable"--I suppose we keep each other feeling fresh with our constant banter, but more than that is the bond that unites us. Difficult to pinpoint, but we all know it's there.

 

     From my seat, my writing today is about appreciating what I have; the proverbial "stop and smell the roses" is what I am talking about because that is exactly what I felt when I said good-bye to my friend. On a larger scale, life is not too short--it's what we put into it and get out of it that matters. Needless to say, I am thoroughly enjoying my life and those who are part of it . . . let's keep this game going. While we're doing that, let's take a moment every now and then to remember our good buddies like Ray, and let's not be too macho to look at our buddies and appreciate what we have right now . . . I don't want to wait and say, "I wish I had  . . . ."

Golf: A Humbling Experience

What is it about golfing that drops grown men to their knees and makes them curse the beloved gods that guide that little white/orange/blue/green ball?

     I would like to say that I am a golfer, but, in doing so, I would be making an exaggeration. I enjoy golfing, but to say that I am a "golfer" would be comparable to saying I dig Harleys without having ever ridden one--I haven't earned the right. Of all the sports I have ever tried, without a doubt, golf has been the most challenging. As most non-golfers attest, hitting a stationary ball with a club looks easy; for those who think that, I would recommend keeping those thoughts to themselves because their ignorance will shine with bright clarity. If only it were easy, I would not be sitting here writing about the game, lamenting its difficulty and its mental toughness requirement.

 

     Envy is a powerful divider, but it can also be a wonderful motivator. For years, I have watched friends who are excellent in the game's many aspects. Embarrassingly, I have watched them drive with distance and accuracy and demonstrate solid control of their wedges and putters while I meandered along hitting the occasional memorable shot but most frequently plodding along feeling sorry for myself. For many reasons (including lack of passion for improvement and suffering self confidence in my golfing ability), I had basically done nothing to improve my game. However, this year, I hit a breaking point: I had run out of excuses. As a result, I made up my mind to concentrate on improving, a relative term for certain, yet one that I was determined to achieve. What I have found is that I thoroughly enjoy the game--don't quite love it just yet--but I find it to be challenging, rewarding, and strangely addicting!

 

     A person who can occasionally be stubborn and stuck in his beliefs--that's me I am talking about--frequently ignores what is most obvious. What I have learned is that my unwillingness to sometimes listen to others' advice can ultimately lead to my own frustration. I was told by many several years ago to take lessons before the bad habits settled in, but, of course, I basically refused. I took a lesson here and there, but when the mind was not really listening, those lessons basically were a waste of money. With credit to the instructors, my inability to improve had nothing to do with them: It was all me and my reluctance to concede that I might just know a "thing or two about this game"; actually, the problem was self confidence and embarrassment . . . I didn't want anyone to know that I truly did not understand golf lingo and the details that accompany it. With that in mind, I have swallowed my pride and committed myself to improving my game. I am realistic, of course; my hope is to improve by four strokes, allowing me to shoot consistently in the bogey range.

 

     Having said all the above, I must confess that mastering the swings required is definitely challenging, but the most difficult part is the mental toughness required to compete--that is where the self confidence enters the picture. Hitting that first ball with others' eyes watching, putting with a par on the line, bouncing back from a bad hole and trying to forget it when teeing off on the next hole, and following a successful play by a partner and trying to emulate it are all examples of how mental toughness controls one's success or lack thereof. For me, that has been my biggest obstacle, but with more experience in those situations, I am seeing improvement. As a coach, I always expounded about being mentally tough, grinding it out, outworking our opponents. Additionally, as a coach, as an athlete, and as an adult runner, I thought I understood that. It was not until I actively pursued golf that I realized that this game required a whole new focus. Performing under pressure has been my biggest challenge.

 

     With a series of lessons under my belt, with playing many rounds by myself as well as with others, with practicing at the driving range, with actively listening to others' far better than I, and with asking questions and actually processing the responses instead of simply absorbing material, I am learning this game. I am feeling my confidence increasing, and I am finding my mental toughness is getting closer to where I am comfortable. Of course, I accept that I will not be as talented as many, but for that is not what I strive. I want to improve, and in doing so, I am finding my mind is facing a daily challenge. Yep, those coaches' lessons from way back are still influencing me: accept my reality; work to improve; recognize my strengths and identify my weaknesses; be open to advice and constructive criticism; and, most of all, develop the mental toughness through experience and competition.

 

Funny how those lessons from when I was a teenager continue to surface . . .

The End or The Beginning?

This entry is expressly intended for those senior students graduating from Dover High School this week, but the message can certainly be applied to any and all. Because these seniors comprised my last group of high school students when they were sophomores, I want to bid them farewell in my own way.
________________________________________________________________________________

Dear Graduating Students,

     A joyous day, perhaps the happiest in your young lives, is right now, this moment--the final day of high school. You have spent so many years preparing . . . and it is here . . . finally. As you look back, you have memories--both good and bad. The petty arguments, jealousies, and dislikes are all put on the back burner for a few days--at this moment, friendships abound, and you are treasuring each moment--good for you!

                       

                                                                . . . . .

 

     However, when the excitement of the moment wears off, you will find that you really are not that much different from where you were prior to graduation. The only certainty that faces you now is uncertainty because each of you is preparing to go into uncharted waters, situations you have never before experienced. How that ride is going to be will be largely determined by you . . .: thus, your life will be full of unanswered questions . . . just like the rest of us who have already been at the exact spot you are at this moment.

 

     Throughout the time you were in my classroom, you were busily involved in writing, reading, writing, writing, and more writing. If you recall the first day, I made this comment to you: "If your sole reason for entering this classroom is to merely get a grade, then you are going to be sorely disappointed." My objective then--as it continues to be now--was to lead you to an understanding of how to survive and how to succeed beyond the classroom walls. I pushed you perhaps when you did not want pushed; I perhaps angered you with my occasional commentary; I made you discuss situations you may not want to have considered; most importantly, however, I have attempted to make you think. You have heard these words come from my mouth: "The sign of an intelligent person is one who views all sides of an issue before voicing an opinion"--at this point, you know what I was trying to do: I want you to leave high school with the insight to examine. Please do not go through life with a narrow-minded approach believing there is only one way to succeed, to live. Please recognize that narrow-minded people frequently end up with great regrets.

 

     While I was teaching you, I repeatedly said that the key reason for learning grammar is to prevent ourselves from being embarrassed. At various points in our lives, we will be forced to write--no matter how difficult that is to believe at the moment. When those situations occur, you will be so dependent on your basic knowledge--what comprises that basic knowledge is now in your head simply because, following your high school graduation, it will be a rare opportunity to take any more grammar classes. Please remember the green banner that graced my classroom wall: Perception is Reality. Please recognize that the perceptions people make about you will not always be accurate . . . but that is what those individuals will remember. Do whatever you can so that when others perceive you, they are walking away with an impressive reaction.

 

     As I sit here at this computer, I could make so many comments, but my reason for writing this letter is not to be preachy. Throughout my year with you, we got to know each other quite well. Through your journal writings, your numerous essays, and our conversations, I am quite comfortable saying I have a solid understanding of where you are in your life. Thus, my reason for writing to you is to leave you with a few "Guntherisms" (what a stupid word!)--it is my way of saying Please do whatever you can to be a good person.

 

***Please recognize that you are going to fail occasionally in your life--it is a given that failure is going to occur. Bad decisions are going to be made (perhaps a few of you have already learned this lesson), and life's events are not always going to go the way you anticipate. How you deal with that failure, however, will determine where you are going to end up.***

 

***Building from the previous point, please understand that when failure occurs it is so important that you determine why it occurred--making excuses will make you feel better in the short term and may even serve as a partial cover when explaining to friends and family why it occurred, but the reality is you must eventually determine why--scrap the excuses and examine the reasons.***

Courage: It is a rare occasion when an individual has the courage to uphold his convictions; so frequently our lives revolve around trying to please others--the importance and value of doing that cannot be overestimated; however, when we allow ourselves to stray too far from the path, we become an accident, a setback, waiting to happen. Remaining courageous and standing your ground is a true test of your character. What you will find is that the meaning and significance of this word, courage, will gradually change as you continue to plow your way through life. Please understand that it is a simple word, yet it packs a powerful punch!

 

Confidence:  So much of what we do revolves around the confidence, the belief, we have in ourselves. Do not--even for a moment--think that your high school days have fully determined your position in life. Yes, habits--both good and bad--have been established, but what truly shapes an individual's future is his or her will and determination. If you believe and if you are willing to work at something--whether it be a job, a marriage, or an obstacle--you can persevere. There are more ways to get ahead in this life than just being smart, believe me.

 

Responsibility:  Whether we want to accept it or not, we must understand that all of us have a responsibility, an obligation to help those who come after us. Our kids--and I am not necessarily referring to our own biological children--will look to us as role models in ways we rarely envision. The language we use, the way we treat others, the enthusiasm we display for life--all these will be closely monitored by those following us. It is our duty to show them the way, whether we like it or not.

 

Respect:  Treating others with respect is perhaps the most important lesson you will ever learn--you will leave this world eventually with only your reputation--try to do whatever you can to make sure that reputation is laced with respect.

 

     Although the foregoing letters, CCRR, seem awfully innocent, I try to use them as a guide for my dealings with others. I will be the first to admit that I occasionally get off track, but I also will tell you that it helps to have a "code" to bring me back to reality--maybe it can be of benefit at a point in your lives.

 

     As I bring these parting words to a close, I will let you in on these thoughts:

     1.  I thoroughly enjoyed teaching you two years ago; you were respectful young people who

          were willing to do what I asked--I admire you for that.

     2.  I hope the mutual respect between us that I discussed with you on the first day of your

          sophomore year has been earned and maintained--to me, it is the key ingredient in
          teaching.

     3.  I hope you walked away from my class considering yourself a better writer than when you

          walked in--it is inevitable that at various times in your future you will still hear a semi-bald-

           headed man telling you the difference between plurals and possessives!

     4. I hate to reveal this, but I must tell you now to avoid future embarrassment: in all likelihood,
         I will forget many of your names. I will remember you, but I might need a little reminder
         about first names--believe me, with all the students I have taught, the thousands of names
         bouncing around in my head become a bit garbled from time to time. Apologizing in
         advance, I ask for your future understanding.
 

     It has been a great run, class, but it is time for you to move on. I wish you well in your life and hope I have been able to help you in one or two small ways. As the famed cartoon character, Elmer Fudd, so adequately put it, "That's all, folks!" Go get 'em!

With much respect,


Mr. Gunther
         
 . . . and never forget "Passion is the trigger of success!"

How Naive Are We?

     As "Deflategate" continues to consume the national media, I find myself actually chuckling over the bizarre reaction of the athletic purists among us. Sports commentators, political advisors, editorialists, common folk--the reaction has been brutal. "The integrity of the game is being threatened," If the rules are not enforced, then the game will crumble," "Tom Brady should be suspended for a year," "The Patriots should be severely punished," . . . all the aforementioned have been bombarding us for a few days. Again, I chuckle . . . most of the critics probably have forgotten a few of the "unspoken," yet hypocritical "rules" of sports. Please allow me to share just a sample:

     *Coaches, players, franchises--all try to get away with whatever they can . . . nothing new about that. "Gaining a competitive edge" is what we who have played athletics call it; others, of course, will refer to it as "cheating." Whatever the term, try these examples on for size and see if any of them ring a bell:
     **Beginning as far back as I can remember, basketball coaches have taught various methods of "gaining an edge" ranging from sending the wrong foul shooter to the free throw line "in case the official forgot" who was to go there; to nudging an opposing jumper during a jump ball with the inside arm as the jumper was going up in the air; to immediately jumping out of bounds when the ball went out of bounds to indicate that the other team knocked the ball out of play "in case the official wasn't sure." In the stands, of course, we applaud the heads up play of the athlete . . . as long as he is on our side!
     ***Offensive line coaches in football are notorious for teaching kids how to clandestinely hold without the officials noticing; sometimes the offenders get caught, but more often than not they avoid being penalized. In simple terms, as football fans know, holding is part of the game. Illegal, yes, but, again, it's part of the game, isn't it?
     ****As a Browns' fan, I clearly remember last year when Coach Mike Pettine ran a play where it appeared that Johnny Manziel ran off the field but instead stood on the sideline apparently discussing something with Coach Kyle Shanahan. Soon thereafter the ball was thrown to Manziel and a significant yardage gain was made; unfortunately, if I remember correctly, a penalty was called for either that trick or for something else that negated the call. We Browns' fans, thought it was a great play because it "almost" worked in our favor. Opponents, of course, thought it was a distinct violation of the rule's intent, but we in this part of Ohio thought it was ingenious!
     *****In baseball, the "code" is if a batter is hugging the plate, a high hard one right at his body may solve the problem. Ethical? Probably not, but as a player, we understand that it could happen. I could elaborate about the "spitter," the hidden ball ploy, and other rules violations, but they are simply part of the game, aren't they?
     ******UCLA is renown for its long-running tenure of NCAA Men's Basketball Championships; as a result, the program and Coach John Wooden are heralded as great teams and a great coach. Many times I have heard "that's how a program should be run" because of the high regard by which they are held. Sorry, I don't buy that argument. As history and research have proven, UCLA cheated like crazy; former players have attested that they were given cars, money, and gifts as rewards for their performances. Sam Gilbert, an extremely devoted fan and a quite wealthy man, I might add, was notorious for his subtle performance as a sugar-daddy. Of course, Coach Wooden escaped the scrutiny because his program was UCLA--a dynasty--and because the NCAA was (or acted) so unaware of what was going on during that time. I strongly doubt that UCLA fans cared whether the "integrity of the game" was being challenged--they were winning, so what if a little action came the way of the players?
     ******As a longtime follower of automobile racing, particularly NASCAR, I recognize that seeking the competitive edge is part of the racing game. NASCAR's history is dotted with improper equipment, unapproved fuel additives, unsanctioned weight distribution methods . . . the list goes on. In truth, part of me admires the ingenuity of the participants for their desire to "bend the rules." Most recently, Ryan Newman's team was fined and certain crew members suspended for putting pinholes in the rear tires to alter the tires' grip on the track . . . my take was "why didn't the other teams try that?"

     So, Tom Brady is accused of being "at least partially aware" of knowing that air was taken out of his footballs--that's a big deal? Are you kidding me? Again, part of me admires him for continuing the tradition of gaining an edge. (I must add that if I flip the words "at least partially aware" what I truly see is "we cannot prove it, but we think that is what happened"--the Wells' Report sounds to me like the word choice has found Brady guilty even though he truly has not! Sensationalism, perhaps?) If the integrity of the game is now ruined because of air in a football, I surrender . . . get me off the athletic train! (I should add in the event that a reader sees me as a loyal Patriots' supporter, he or she would be wrong--that is not the case.)

     Sports are games--anyone who has played, coached, or watched closely probably understands my perspective. For the naysayers who are convinced that all sports need to be pure, I have to agree with them . . . if only that were so. Viewing sports from a naïve perspective can only lead to negative perceptions; opening our eyes and occasionally appreciating the quirks can be quite enlightening. The reality is that sports are not wholly pure--the "wiggle room" is half the fun!

mag.gunther@gmail.com
guntherm@roadrunner.com

Young Athletes: Separation and Specialization

The Vortex is alive, consuming as many innocents as possible . . . where did it start, and when will it end?

     The beauty of experience is that it often allows an alternative perspective, often conflicting with what is currently accepted as common practice. From my seat, that is the dilemma with young athletes and many families today: naïve bystanders getting sucked in by a power that seems out of control--join in or get left behind.

     As most who read my blog know, my background in coaching is lengthy; certainly, that does not make me an expert, but it does allow me the opportunity to provide an informed viewpoint on sports and kids who play them. Seemingly forever, kids have been participating in sports, many organized, many not. However, sometime in the past 15-20 years or so, the idea that we need not just a few leagues, but many leagues, emerged. Along with this came the idea that we needed travel teams, that we needed to play in competition leagues, that kids needed the best competition possible, and that future full-college scholarships depended on kids' involvement. Pick a sport, my friends, and you will see to what I am referring: basketball, baseball, softball.


     I, as much as anyone, understand the thrill of competition as well as the lessons accompanying winning and losing. However, I am deeply troubled by the changing dynamics of youth sports. As indicated in my opening, a "vortex" seems to have surfaced creating the idea for parents that their kids must be involved in sports for them to be "somebody." No, I do not underestimate the values sports teaches us, so please spare the criticism for a moment. What seems to happen is that kids--in so many ways, both subtly and openly--are being force-fed to participate in youth sports. What concerns me, though, is that many times the emphasis is not on the involvement but, rather, on the development of talent so that a travel team can go somewhere and win resulting in kids getting a boatload of trophies. My observation is that oftentimes the kids who get chosen for the travel teams are most frequently the ones who have matured the earliest and whose families can afford the fees associated with the costs involved. In short, separation is created at a young age. Pity the poorer kids whose families know they cannot afford the luxury of carting their kids here and there most weekends. Pity the kids whose coordination and athletic talents have yet to surface as youths. Their opportunities and desire to succeed are often squashed before they have even made it out of elementary school.

     For those whose kids are talented and whose parents can afford the costs, travel teams are probably welcome to their lives. However, I would bet that many of those same involved parents were ones who at one time said, "We will never do that." Thus, the vortex  . . . many have been sucked in only because they have accepted that their children pretty much need sports to fit in . . . or is it the parents who need the fix?
                                                         . . . . . .

     In the spring of every year as coaches organize their summers, we as coaches wait to see who is going to stop playing basketball, football, tennis,  . . . . Invariably, a few walk away for a variety of reasons. Reasoning typically includes tension with the coach, loss of desire for the sport, lack of talent, or--something I have observed recently more than ever--specializing in a certain sport. I am not about to criticize others' decisions, but I do want to make a few observations, based on a 59-year-old man's reasoning. Even though it is a cliché, enjoying our youth is so vital to our development. I played baseball and basketball throughout high school and football for my freshman year; I wish my school would have had a cross country program because I would have loved to have run. I wish I had learned to play the piano, but I was too busy playing sports; I wish I had learned how to work on a car when my dad wanted to teach me; I wish I had learned carpentry when my neighbor wanted me to help him . . . my point is that as I look back, I enjoyed my opportunities, but I missed out on so much. Why was simple . . . I wanted to play basketball and baseball. Granted, my abilities were somewhat limited, but I would have loved to have been a three-sport athlete. Even today I look with admiration at my peers who were well-rounded athletes and those today who develop their skills to their utmost. When kids specialize, though, they lose in many ways. The lust for that all-encompassing full college scholarship overwhelms and blinds so many that they often fail to see the opportunity that is staring them in the face right now. Yes, it's true that when spring arrives, young athletes often are lured by warmth and sunshine and begin questioning their allegiance to various sports and activities, but when that football team takes the field or that basketball team emerges from the locker room, those kids who have not been willing to make that sacrifice will be missing out on their golden opportunities . . . here's hoping that those high school kids enjoy the sacrifice and the lessons learned--they will never regret it.
                                                                 . . . . .

     Finally, in an attempt to bring my thoughts together, my parting words are simple: By the time kids arrive on varsity squads, most coaches have no idea who was on a traveling team or how many trophies were won or how many dads were championship coaches . . . it's almost like knowing the score at halftime--few know and few remember. Many of those kids who were on those super teams have quit playing, have been injured due to overuse injuries, or simply have realized that their athletic accomplishments have been overstressed by parents. What is left are those kids who have a passion, who have talent, and whose coordination has blossomed . . . my only fear is that we have not turned kids off before we have the chance to turn them on!
    

Who are "They"?

"Every time you turn around, they want more money."
"If they try to push a new school down our throats, I will be against it."
"Do they ever think of the parents and the problems this might cause?"

All the aforementioned are excerpts from this past week's 30 Seconds statements found in the local Times-Reporter, comments that say much to me about the "they're picking on me" mentality that I see growing in our country and particularly in our home base. If readers and callers are going to continue placing the blame on "they," then I suppose we should have a common understanding of just who "they" really are!

Are "they" the people whom we have elected to make decisions for us (council representatives, school board members, trustees, commisioners)? The same people who get paid a pittance, who endure the wrath of constituents when they make a decision contrary to what an individual desires, who look to the future and try to make ends meet when the money is scarce, who have the courage to represent their neighborhoods when nobody else will step forward to do it? If that is the "they" being referred to by many, maybe we should applaud them rather than being critical of their commitment.

Are "they" the powers-that-be who set policy for our industries, the ones who frequently are trying to save us from us? The same people who regulate big business like oil and gas, television, public utilities, and environmental concerns? If that is the "they" being referred to by many, maybe we should occasionally applaud them rather than be misled into believing that those individuals are trying to turn our society into an outright disaster.

I could go on with my premises, but what each is leading to is the growing skepticism encompassing us. For whatever reason--unemployed/laid off people, drug addiction, complete apathy--I see and hear us spiraling toward such negativity that it scares me. Where it will stop is anyone's guess, but I am frustrated with the constant blame game. It reminds me of when I was a kid getting caught doing something: "I didn't do it!" It was so easy to blame a sometimes faceless person or situation when I clearly had ownership of the problem. My thinking was if I blamed someone it would shift my guilt . . . I should add that it seldom worked, and, after a while, any credibility I had drifted away. The same is true with the constant references to "they"--too much complaining and blaming about a faceless culprit make any argument somewhat worthless.

Over a year ago, I finished reading Jerry Tarkanian's book Runnin' Rebel. For those unfamiliar, Tarkanian (aka Tark the Shark) was a long-time college basketball coach out west, most notably at the University of Nevada-Las Vegas, who had a career of run-ins with the NCAA.  I cannot claim to know who was right or wrong, but when I was finished with the book, I realized Tark must have been an angel sent from heaven because he was constantly being picked on by the authorities--of course, everybody else was cheating uncontrollably, but they picked on him because they didn't like him. When I was done reading, my perception had changed--Tark had always portrayed the man's man way of life . . . Vegas, fast times, casinos, drinking, women, winning . . . by the time I had finished reading, I realized he had written the book to portray himself as a victim. Unfortunately, the effect was the opposite on me--he was repeatedly crying the blues about being picked on, but everybody else was getting away with infractions . . . sound familiar to my argument? While "they," the NCAA, may have been right or wrong, that point did not matter to me; what did matter was that "they" were just another example of blame.

I must share two personal stories that have occurred in the past few years-- a former classmate and teammate, and a lifetime friend who endured similar situations --that may illuminate my perspective. Van Henry, a talented, all-star athlete in any sport he ever attempted,faced the battle of prostate cancer. Once he endured the initial shock, he immediately put on his game face; rather than feeling sorry for himself, he attacked his treatments breaking them into the four quarters of an athletic contest. I am not writing this to provoke sympathy--if you know him, he would be upset if anyone did. Rather, his attitude is what made him go.  In his private moments, he probably endured the self pity that inevitably has to accompany such a diagnosis . . . but no one ever knew that. Likewise, Kim (Ronald) Smith, now a prominent attorney in Lancaster, PA, and a former Indian Valley North friend, faced an even more invasive battle with breast cancer, one that required her to endure emotions I cannot even envision. She, too, faced the fight head-on, never allowing the defeating demons to overcome her. Today, she embraces life just as she always has, but she truly understands the blessed gift she has been granted.

You do see where I am going with this, right?  The mental approach we take to life's challenges is what separates us--repeatedly, I told Van and Kim that their attitudes kept impressing me, and I was not blowing smoke. Van has always been a fighter in an athletic sense and Kim in an intellectual sense, but both were forced to take their lessons learned and apply them to a challenge they had never experienced. They have endured, and I have no doubt that Van will take his experience and use it to encourage others to face challenges head on--just like Kim is currently doing . . . that is what positive-thinking people do. An important side note:  I know sports are perceived in many different ways based upon our own experiences, but please don't ever tell me that enduring what sports offers does not toughen a person. Any athlete will say that quitting is always an option, but overcoming that feeling is what makes us tick and what pays dividends later in life. Van Henry and Kim (Ronald) Smith have once again proven that they are winners in these, the biggest fights of their lives . . . and through their experiences they have taught me yet again about perseverance.

Let me pull all this together: The "they" referred to at the outset of this entry could be anybody or anything, but it is so easy to blame "they" rather than confronting an issue and intelligently trying to arrive at a solution that works. Unfortunately, not all solutions are what we want to hear, but an appreciation for the process can certainly be achieved. Perhaps battling cancer is an extreme example, but my point has been made--how we approach life is determined largely by us. Bottom line for me:  When I hear others whining about someone or something, I frequently say, "OK, so what did you do about it?" It might not be the response desired, but at least I am trying to get past the negative . . . and sometimes they shut up! 

Who Are "They"?

"Every time you turn around, they want more money."
"If they try to push a new school down our throats, I will be against it."
"Do they ever think of the parents and the problems this might cause?"

All the aforementioned are excerpts from this past week's 30 Seconds statements found in the local Times-Reporter, comments that say much to me about the "they're picking on me" mentality that I see growing in our country and particularly in our home base. If readers and callers are going to continue placing the blame on "they," then I suppose we should have a common understanding of just who "they" really are!

Are "they" the people whom we have elected to make decisions for us (council representatives, school board members, trustees, commisioners)? The same people who get paid a pittance, who endure the wrath of constituents when they make a decision contrary to what an individual desires, who look to the future and try to make ends meet when the money is scarce, who have the courage to represent their neighborhoods when nobody else will step forward to do it? If that is the "they" being referred to by many, maybe we should applaud them rather than being critical of their commitment.

Are "they" the powers-that-be who set policy for our industries, the ones who frequently are trying to save us from us? The same people who regulate big business like oil and gas, television, public utilities, and environmental concerns? If that is the "they" being referred to by many, maybe we should occasionally applaud them rather than be misled into believing that those individuals are trying to turn our society into an outright disaster.

I could go on with my premises, but what each is leading to is the growing skepticism encompassing us. For whatever reason--unemployed/laid off people, drug addiction, complete apathy--I see and hear us spiraling toward such negativity that it scares me. Where it will stop is anyone's guess, but I am frustrated with the constant blame game. It reminds me of when I was a kid getting caught doing something: "I didn't do it!" It was so easy to blame a sometimes faceless person or situation when I clearly had ownership of the problem. My thinking was if I blamed someone it would shift my guilt . . . I should add that it seldom worked, and, after a while, any credibility I had drifted away. The same is true with the constant references to "they"--too much complaining and blaming about a faceless culprit make any argument somewhat worthless.

Over a year ago, I finished reading Jerry Tarkanian's book Runnin' Rebel. For those unfamiliar, Tarkanian (aka Tark the Shark) was a long-time college basketball coach out west, most notably at the University of Nevada-Las Vegas, who had a career of run-ins with the NCAA.  I cannot claim to know who was right or wrong, but when I was finished with the book, I realized Tark must have been an angel sent from heaven because he was constantly being picked on by the authorities--of course, everybody else was cheating uncontrollably, but they picked on him because they didn't like him. When I was done reading, my perception had changed--Tark had always portrayed the man's man way of life . . . Vegas, fast times, casinos, drinking, women, winning . . . by the time I had finished reading, I realized he had written the book to portray himself as a victim. Unfortunately, the effect was the opposite on me--he was repeatedly crying the blues about being picked on, but everybody else was getting away with infractions . . . sound familiar to my argument? While "they," the NCAA, may have been right or wrong, that point did not matter to me; what did matter was that "they" were just another example of blame.

I must share two personal stories that have occurred in the past few years-- a former classmate and teammate, and a lifetime friend who endured similar situations --that may illuminate my perspective. Van Henry, a talented, all-star athlete in any sport he ever attempted,faced the battle of prostate cancer. Once he endured the initial shock, he immediately put on his game face; rather than feeling sorry for himself, he attacked his treatments breaking them into the four quarters of an athletic contest. I am not writing this to provoke sympathy--if you know him, he would be upset if anyone did. Rather, his attitude is what made him go.  In his private moments, he probably endured the self pity that inevitably has to accompany such a diagnosis . . . but no one ever knew that. Likewise, Kim (Ronald) Smith, now a prominent attorney in Lancaster, PA, and a former Indian Valley North friend, faced an even more invasive battle with breast cancer, one that required her to endure emotions I cannot even envision. She, too, faced the fight head-on, never allowing the defeating demons to overcome her. Today, she embraces life just as she always has, but she truly understands the blessed gift she has been granted.

You do see where I am going with this, right?  The mental approach we take to life's challenges is what separates us--repeatedly, I told Van and Kim that their attitudes kept impressing me, and I was not blowing smoke. Van has always been a fighter in an athletic sense and Kim in an intellectual sense, but both were forced to take their lessons learned and apply them to a challenge they had never experienced. They have endured, and I have no doubt that Van will take his experience and use it to encourage others to face challenges head on--just like Kim is currently doing . . . that is what positive-thinking people do. An important side note:  I know sports are perceived in many different ways based upon our own experiences, but please don't ever tell me that enduring what sports offers does not toughen a person. Any athlete will say that quitting is always an option, but overcoming that feeling is what makes us tick and what pays dividends later in life. Van Henry and Kim (Ronald) Smith have once again proven that they are winners in these, the biggest fights of their lives . . . and through their experiences they have taught me yet again about perseverance.

Let me pull all this together: The "they" referred to at the outset of this entry could be anybody or anything, but it is so easy to blame "they" rather than confronting an issue and intelligently trying to arrive at a solution that works. Unfortunately, not all solutions are what we want to hear, but an appreciation for the process can certainly be achieved. Perhaps battling cancer is an extreme example, but my point has been made--how we approach life is determined largely by us. Bottom line for me:  When I hear others whining about someone or something, I frequently say, "OK, so what did you do about it?" It might not be the response desired, but at least I am trying to get past the negative . . . and sometimes they shut up! 

Time Marches On . . .

This face is all I have, worn and lived in, the lines below my eyes are like old friends. . . 
and when cracks appear, they suit me fine--like a good ol' dog, you won't hear me whine . . .
I can't believe the reflection on the wall who used to be the fairest of them all . . .

     With reverence toward the incomparable Willie Nelson who penned those words, I focus today on a topic seldom discussed outside our homes yet so vital to our self esteem: our faces. As we self inventory, whether we admit it or not, our focus typically centers on the face, our most precious and our most changing identity. Regardless of what age we are at the moment, our faces portray a change, even though we often do not want to face those changes.

     Funny how my perspective has altered as I edge closer to 60 . . . the ol' dog mentioned previously has begun to view life at a much more comfortable, relaxed pace, one that has allowed me to truly get off the treadmill and begin enjoying the life I have lived. The photos I occasionally see of this kid who wore tiger pajamas, who played with his trains at Christmas, and who enjoyed building model cars from kits all show a smiling, carefree-looking boy. The Vitalis my dad put in my hair and the goofy ties I wore every Sunday reflect a kid who had no cares in the world . . . the face was innocent.

     Following those elementary years came the junior high/high school saga. The beginning of zits, the excitement of having girls pay attention, the highs and lows of sports, the challenge of harder classes, the decisions that seemed so easy to make yet carried such harsh consequences, the desire to fit in no matter what it took to do so . . . the innocent face began to change, but it still retained a freshness that reflected optimism . . . the world was in front of me.

     The college years: drinking; studying; feverishly watching The Unknown Comic and Gene, Gene, The Dancing Machine on The Gong Show; hanging out in bars (and liking it!); looking for love; discovering independence; growing my hair long  . . . the innocence was being challenged and oftentimes buried because the adult was peeking through . . . a new face was emerging . . . this close to changing from a kid into a man.

     The working world slapped me whether I wanted it to or not.  Getting a steady paycheck, teaching and coaching kids, emerging as a role model, being watched by parents and others--all contributed to a maturity I had avoided for so long.  The responsible face had arrived . . . time to grow up and morph into my parents . . . but I didn't want to do that, so I kept hanging on to those college experiences on weekends . . . until that got to be old news . . . the face was still smiling, but something was missing.

     What was missing was companionship--friends were still many, but part of me had grown tired of my lifestyle. Running had always been part of my existence since those middle school years, but now I found it to be a refuge. Training for marathons and other races was my outlet . . . I loved it, but it merely occupied my time. Dating had been going on for several years, but my insecurity about wanting to settle down had prevented me from getting overly serious, oftentimes to my own detriment. Not sure about what I wanted, I did know it was time to change . . . my face no longer hid what I wanted.

     Soon, marriage followed by two daughters entered my life--everything changed. No longer was I the centerpiece; in fact, my life became somewhat secondary as I tried to make sense of the obligations, the challenges, and the goals of being a husband and a dad . . . responsibility was my main focus, raising kids to be successful; maintaining a marriage that featured two working adults with limited together-time due to work schedules; seeking success financially, academically, athletically, socially, personally . . . all contributing to a tired face that knew that pressure was mounting, knowing that I had a family to care for, knowing that I had better not screw up because the consequences would be devastating . . . the pressures of adulthood had smacked me.

     The kids were raised, mistakes were made where sometimes I just called myself a dumbass, lessons were taught and learned, the little girls who had melted my heart from day 1 were now adults and had  branched out on their own to different parts of the country, my career unfolded as well as I could have ever hoped . . . and then it ended. Retirement, which had previously been reserved for old people, now was part of my life. The wrinkles had been creeping in for many years, but now I noticed them more than ever. The wrinkled brow, the bags beneath the eyes, the crooked lines beside the eyes . . . never really noticed them that much but now, without a doubt, they are there.

     The journey--I hope--is far from complete, but the world looks different to me these days. No longer is it something I want to conquer, but it is something I want to appreciate. Memories of my childhood, my maturation, my family, my career, and my students all seem a bit more vivid these days. In my den hang pictures of accomplishments, friends, family--their power lingers. The face today . . . experienced, a bit jaded, wise, celebrated . . . the lines and wrinkles? I welcome them because I have worked hard to get them, and they all mean something to me . . . when I look in the mirror, I don't see old age; instead, I see much life to live, to experience . . . I see a bright future, one I don't want to miss!

What do you do with a memory?
You can't hold back the sands of time . . .
Can't erase the things I saw . . .
What do you do with old regrets?  Hold them close enough to not forget.

     In yet another song, Willie has nailed it . . . and so have I!

mag.gunther@gmail.com