Month: September 2017

Sometimes—okay, most of the time—my responses can be somewhat curt.  I don’t really mean them to be, but it is always easier to speak before I think.  Easier, however, is not always wiser.  I need to keep working on bettering myself. 

I am by no means an expert on interpersonal skills.  I took a course as an undergraduate college student in the early ‘80s, but I am really more of a hack who is making it up as I go.  I need help.  The best thing to do when one needs help?  Ask!

My wife is probably the most frequent victim of my insensitivity.  It is easiest to offend the ones we love the most—primarily because we tend to let down our guard.  So, I struck a deal with my better half.  When one of us says something careless (more often it is me), the other is to respond: “Is that the second draft?”  In other words: “I believe you might want to reconsider what you just said.”  We hope doing so will serve to 1) lighten the mood when things could otherwise turn south quickly, and 2) educate us in how our words can hurt without knowing.  Rather than being offended and harbor anger, this tactic allows humor to relax what could be a tense situation and open (rather than close) communication.

It is too bad that our brains aren’t programmed like our computer software to alert us to impending errors.  Microsoft Word tells me when I misspell a word or make a grammar error.  My brain rarely takes the time to careful consider and edit the words before telling the tongue to “send”.  Herein is the wisdom of increasing the time between the stimulus and the response.  That extra fraction of a second in which we allow the wisdom centers in our brain to consider what we are about to say can make all the difference in our relationships.  Taking time to think before we react allows us to process what we are about to say before we say.  Still, we are human—self-centered humans—and we are prone to saying stupid things.  When we do we need the support of others.

Vince Lombardi said: “Perfection is not attainable, but if we chase perfection we can catch excellence.”  If we work at improving our communication, we will improve over time.  We will certainly slip up time and again, but owning our mistakes will go a long way in keeping our relationships healthy.

On the receiving end of another’s words, we need to be less sensitive.  There is a push in American culture to put the blame on the offender and take no responsibility as the offended.  When we are offended by another’s words, we can 1) let them hurt us, 2) throw them back, or 3) hand them back gently and afford the offender the opportunity to rephrase.  Of course, they might choose not to rearticulate and hurl their words back at us.  In this case, we are wise to walk away.

There are many lessons one can learn from the movie, What About Bob?  Bob’s wisdom on the matter of people who don’t like us (or treat us as such) is: “You know, I treat people, as if they were telephones.  If I meet somebody I think doesn’t like me, I say, “This one is temporarily out of order.”  You know, don’t break the connection.  Just hang up and try again!”

So, as we attempt communicate our feelings, we must try to edit our words carefully.  If someone says something that hurts us, let’s first give them a chance to edit their words.  If that doesn’t work, “just hang up”.

Be your best today; be better tomorrow!

Carpe momento!

“Pain is temporary. Quitting lasts forever.”–Lance Armstrong

Pain is a natural perception in the body.  It is a message.  It is there as a protective measure.

Pain prevents injury.  It is part of our neurological wiring and is part of the fight or flight response.  Genetically and psychologically, we all have differing pain thresholds.  Understanding our pain is, thus, important.

There are differing views among exercise professionals on the phrase “no pain, no gain”.  Some say that one “should not feel pain when they are exercising.”  To a degree, they are correct.  However, if one is not feeling some level of discomfort—i.e., “pain”—one is not overloading the system.  Pain, after all, is telling the body “This is more than we are used to doing.  Be careful!  We don’t want to get hurt.”  Nevertheless, we are in control of our pain tolerance.  Yes, we don’t want to push ourselves to the point of injury, but, unless our brain is “wired” to have an extreme tolerance to pain, it will shut us down before we push too far.  (Of course, this excludes stupidity when it comes to training technique and/or exercise selection.  If there is a breakdown of technique because of fatigue and one begins to feel pain, pushing the body further lacks common sense.)

Pain is known to be modified by our emotions.  Athletes, in particular, have a greater capacity to endure pain.  Competition intensifies this ability.  On the other hand, stress can make greater worriers of some, thus lessening the tolerance for pain.

Pain during exercise is natural, and one’s tolerance can be improved with training (the overload principle applies).  Pain, after all, is an “experience”.  Signals are sent to the brain, and the brain decides how to respond.  There are genetic factors and sensitivities to neurotransmitters to consider, but, individually, we are (almost) all capable of improving our pain threshold and, thus, push our levels of tolerance.

This is one of the many benefits of youth sports.  As my son’s coaches have often told the boy’s: “There is a difference between having an ‘owwie’ and being ‘hurt’.”  The kids learn to tell the difference.  They also learn, in the process, to deal better with adversity and the “pains” in life.  Some will call it “mental toughness.”  Young athletes also learn to be comfortable being uncomfortable.

I think of when my children were toddlers.  When they fell, or bumped themselves, they would almost always look at us for a reaction.  If we reacted with fear, they responded by crying.  If we controlled our reaction, they would usually get up and go on their way.  I still see the look in my children as they have grown older.  It is still a process of teaching them.  Without allowing them the opportunity to get bumps and bruises, they might never learn to deal effectively with “pain”.

The spectrum of what causes us “pain” is broad.  We need to let ourselves experience pain so we can effectively deal with it.  Otherwise, we have a long list of terms we can use for what we might become.

Pain in life is inevitable—unless we avoid it.  Pain, however, is one of the first signs that we are growing (or about to grow).

In this post, I have written more to the Physical dimension, but discomfort must be felt Spiritually, Physically, Intellectually, Emotionally, and Socially, if one is to grow toward “well-centeredness”.  Shielding ourselves or our children in “bubble-wrap” does no one any good.  We must let “pain” happen.

Be your best today; be better tomorrow.

Carpe momento!

“There is no coming to consciousness without pain.”–Carl Jung

A pastor friend, Bob Hyatt, shared a pie-chart on Facebook the other day that I really liked.  The heading was: “What the LORD requires”.  The slices were roughly 30% each for “do justly”, “love mercy”, and “walk humbly with God”.  The final 10% was “more cowbell”.  Now, if you are young or just live with your head in the sand, “more cowbell” is a reference to the classic ‘Saturday Night Live’ sketch (April 8, 2000) with Christopher Walken spoofing the recording of the Blue Öyster Cult song, “(Don’t Fear) the Reaper”.  It is considered one of the funniest ever SNL sketches.  Personally, it is one of my favorites.  I can’t hear the song or see a cowbell without smiling.

So, the LORD requires “more cowbell”?  I would say Bob made a perceptive, albeit intent on humor, observation, here.  No doubt that God wants us to live our lives justly, mercifully, and humbly, but he wants “more cowbell”, too.  In other words, we should live life fully and enthusiastically—with a smile on our face.

If I could start every day with the meditation that “the LORD requires that I do justly, love mercy, walk humbly with God, and give it more cowbell”, I am going to have a great day.  I am going to treat others better, and I am going to love life.

“More cowbell” is what we all need.  “The Bruce Dickinson”, played by Walken, admonishes Gene Fenkel, played by Will Ferrell, to “explore the studio space”.  After annoying his band mates, Fenkel delivers an impassioned speech in which he declares that Dickinson’s stature lends a great deal of weight to his opinion about the cowbell part and that, the last time he checked, there weren’t a lot of songs that feature the cowbell. He would be doing a disservice to himself and every member of the band if he “didn’t perform the hell out of this.”  To me, carpe momento might just be translated, “more cowbell”.

So, when you go about your day, live justly, mercifully, and humbly, and give the world more cowbell!

Image source: NBC.com

“’And no one pours new wine into old wineskins. Otherwise, the wine will burst the skins, and both the wine and the wineskins will be ruined. No, they pour new wine into new wineskins.’”—Mark 2:22 (NIV)

There are a number of interpretations of the parable of the new and old wineskins in the Gospel of Mark.  One approach is to look at is as a parable about growth or learning.  We are often—frequently—resistant to change and new ideas.  It is certainly harder to change when we hold on to our old ideas.

I have written thoughts before on “thinking outside of the box.”  I have struggled with the notion of constructing boxes.  Boxes are limitations—often self-imposed limitations.  As Walt Disney admonished us, we have to refuse the existence of the box.  Of course, growth cannot occur when we can’t see beyond the walls we build.  I believe this is what Jesus tells us.

New wine stretches the wineskin as it ferments just like new learning expands the mind and stretches our framework of understanding.  New wine explodes the old wineskin.  Thusly, growth can come only when the recipient is open to change.

It is quite simple, really.  If one seeks growth, one must be open to having one’s previous knowledge and understanding challenged.  It is impossible to teach new ideas to someone who is set in his or her ways.  Impossible.

This is not to say that all our old ideas are outdated or of no use.  These are the foundations of new knowledge.  We just can’t be chained to our knowledge.  New wine.  New wineskins.

“The difficulty lies not so much in developing new ideas as in escaping from old ones.”–John Maynard Keynes

“I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character.”—Martin Luther King, Jr.

With the recent hurricane Irma in Florida, we have all seen the videos of scores of blacks looting local stores.  Today, I saw a similar series of photos of whites looting.  I am not sure these photos are specifically related to hurricane Irma.  It doesn’t matter.  The point is looting is wrong.  Looting is stealing.  It is wrong to think that looting is a racial matter.  Stealing is a crime—whoever does it.

My immediate thought to my friend’s posting was to recall the words from Dr. King’s powerful “I have a dream” speech.  Apparently, we are not yet to the point in our history in which people are judged only by the content of their character.  It is a sad reality.

It is a reality that needs to change.  It is a reality I pray will change.

Good people are being categorized by the actions of bad people.  Good and bad have no color.  Character has no color either.

Today is a short post, because there is little that needs to be said.  A tremendous amount or work is needed to be done.  Words aren’t needed.  Action is demanded.

Carpe momento!

Image source: http://kids.nationalgeographic.com/content/dam/kids/photos/articles/History/M-Z/mlk-jr-08.jpg

I was talking with my son’s football coach Wednesday evening.  We got on the topic of bench press and muscle size.  Coach and I have opposite challenges.  He set a bench press record for his football team in college and is a guy who just explodes with size when he lifts weights (I hate him!).  I, on the other hand, have always struggled to add muscle mass and lift weights that are rather unimpressive to all but the non-exerciser.  I have to work hard to look like a “former athlete”.  I have come to terms with this.

Looking back, I can recall so many cycles of letting weight supersede technique—all for the perception of “getting stronger”.  Over time I learned (and relearned) form matters most.  As a teenager, starting out with Nautilus equipment (yes, I am that old), I faced repeated correction on the Hip-and-Back from Biz Stark, the owner of Steel City Nautilus in Pittsburgh back in the late ‘70s.  One day, he finally said, “Jeff, my business depends on results.  If you are not going to do the machine correctly, I am happy to refund your money and send you on your way.” (Or something to that effect.)  He clearly understood me, because that was all I needed.  I got to where, later as an exercise trainer, with my back to someone on the machine, I could recognize that someone was doing the machine incorrectly only from the sound of the machine.  (I was better off than my friend, Danny.  Biz corrected his form on the Hip-and-Back by marking his leg with a black Sharpie pen every time his did a rep incorrectly!)

As a long, tall lifter, I lack the leverage and proportions for lifting the big heavy stuff.  One rep for me is two for some powerlifters.  This is important to remember.

Work is force times distance.  So, the lazy thing to do is to shorten the range of motion.  I was always big on range of motion, which is easier on a machine where leverage is often equalized by the fixed moment arm—i.e., height is less of a factor.  It wasn’t until I made the shift to free-weights (now entirely free-weights) that the laziness set in.

Bench is bench—there is not much one can do to shorten the range of motion to make it easier (other than lifting the butt so high off the bench or not bringing the bar all the way down).  Squats, on the other hand, are a bit easier to slip into a lazy technique.  Indeed, many exercise professionals did—and still—encourage partial squats.  I even bought into it (a little) for a while.  I was never one to believe that it was bad for the knees to squat full range-of-motion.  Nevertheless, I convinced myself that going to “90-degrees” (quotations marks because 90-degrees was probably more like 85- or 80-degrees or worse) was okay because I am tall.  Thus, I would get “stronger” until my back would start hurting.  Then, I convinced myself that my leverage was my limiting factor.

A few years ago, a student hit me with a brick.  (Figuratively, of course.  Throwing physical bricks at anyone is frowned upon.)  I mentioned “deep squats”.  He asked for clarification.  I described what I meant, and he responded, “Oh.  We just call those ‘squats’.”  When I was in high school, we would have called that a “burn”.  He was absolutely correct, and he changed my attitude.  I became determined to do only full squats.

To correct my technique, I had to lower my weights significantly and improve the mobility in my hips and ankles.  I went embarrassingly low in the bar weight and began to work my way back up.  I am actually finding that my technique has improved over time, as well.  Back pain?  I am also finding that when I do have back pain (from sitting too much at a computer all day or extensive yard work), squatting actually helps.  I lift at home, so I don’t really have to be embarrassed by how “little” I lift (which really isn’t that little for the average 54-year-old—but, I don’t want to be “average”).  The key is: technique first; weight progression second.

Defining full range-of-motion is tricky.  One thing I figured out is that the so-called “ass-to-grass” is not possible for everyone.  Even in an unweighted squat, my butt doesn’t come near the floor.  My limb proportions just don’t permit it.  One can improve joint mobility (to a point), but one cannot change bone lengths.  So, what is “full range-of-motion”?

Full range-of-motion is individualized.  The form will not be the same for everyone.  One finds his or her full squat depth by squatting to full depth.  Simply drop down into a “comfortable” squatting position.  Foot position, etc. will line up naturally.  Restrictions in ankle and hip mobility can be improved with stretching.

The same goes for all weight-training exercises (well, all exercise, for that matter).  Technique over show.  You can load all the weight you want, but, if you don’t move it, no one is impressed.  Focus on form and progress as required.  Improvement will come—and continue—when you do it right.

I have been squatting “properly” for several years.  My legs are by no means impressive (still quite chicken-like), but improving slowly.  I am one of those “low responders”.  Unlike my son’s coach, my muscle gets stronger but to a lesser degree—and less (much less) hypertrophy.  High responders, perhaps, are more rare than low responders.  Most will respond “normally”.  So, if you are worried about getting “bulky muscles”, don’t.  Most of us aren’t willing to work that hard.  Even those “high responders” work hard for their gains.  They just don’t need to work as hard for “modest” gains.  Me?  I’ll take the gains I am getting.

Be your best today; be better tomorrow!

Carpe momento!

I saw statistics on income-based enrollments at public universities in Michigan.  A former colleague referred to Eastern Michigan University as a “school of opportunity”.  Admittedly, it was a phrase I had not seen before, but immediately liked.  It is an appropriate description of schools like EMU, where less than one-percent of the students come from households making more than $630K and 43% of the students are from households making less than $65K.  Statistically, Western Oregon University, where I currently teach, is not much different.  Indeed, there are numerous such schools, and, frankly, schools with students in better economic circumstances are no less schools of “opportunity”.  It is my opinion that all institutions of education are “schools of opportunity”.  For some young people (and older, so-called “non-traditional”, students), it might just be easier than for others.

A phrase with which I am more familiar is “first-generation college student”.  Certainly, it is accurate, but it sometimes gets used with a bit of a (unintentional) negative undertone.  It is perceived by some that students who come from families in which no one has a college degree (i.e., “first-generation college students”) are somehow disadvantaged.  True, some are.  Many students, today, have to work and sacrifice more for a college education.  Students are graduating with more debt than ever before.  Nevertheless, they are every bit as capable as any other student.  If students are perceived as “less capable”, they will be treated as such.  To me, this is unfair.

If a student—any student—is treated as less than capable, he or she will slip to the level of expectation.  Of course, students may need help navigating college life, but the assumption that they can’t manage without lowing the bar is unwarranted.

I had a student once complain that the math I was asking them to do was “hard”.  For one thing, it was a level of math of which all college students should be capable.  I explained this to the students.  A comment was made that the math might not be hard for me, but I “need to bring it down to (the students’) level”.  You might be able to guess my response.  I told the student: “No, my job is to elevate you to the level you need to perform in the workplace.”

As educators, we cannot consider ourselves at a “school of opportunity” if we don’t maintain high standards and expectations for the students.  Education is opportunity.  A diploma is worthless, if it does not bring with it the opportunity for something better.

A “school of opportunity” teaches students the skills needed not only for the students’ future, but also for the future of all society.  Train a student to be employed, you prepare them to get a job.  Train a student to think, you prepare them to create jobs.  This might demand more of educators, but it is effort well-spent.

As the school year gets underway, I commend teachers.  I also encourage teachers to elevate their standards and expectations.  And students?  Expect to be challenge.  Demand to be challenged.  Seek opportunity.

Be your best today; be better tomorrow.

Carpe momento!

I know that I can be somewhat alone with this among professionals in the fitness industry, but I have my issues with the phrase, “functional fitness.  It is my humble opinion that all training is functional (or should be).  Now, of course, there may be some reason for adding a functional component to one’s training—specifically, I think of firefighters, police, and military personal.  A big issue with doing so is opportunity cost.  For such “athletes” (and I think there is more than a bit of an athletic component that goes into such work—the phrase “tactical athlete” is often used), traditional exercise training—e.g., squatting until the legs feel like Jello—is often not ideal.  Tactical athletes, after all, can be deployed and must be ready to “go” at a moment’s notice.  For these athletes, training the energy systems for fast recovery and managing MRV (“maximal recoverable volume”) are crucial.  For most of us….

I was inspired to write this after seeing an advertisement for a treadmill that had the added feature of loadable weights for farmer carries.  I assume the idea is to be able to train to carry things for very long distances??  Now, one of my initial responses was: dumbbells.  Why not just carry dumbbells on the treadmill—if this exercise is so necessary.  (A friend noted that if the weight got too heavy one could just “let go”—point taken.)  Another thought was back to walking a good half-mile uphill (it was Pittsburgh, after all) with groceries with my mom as a kid—“functional training”.  Why must we drive to the gym (and, let’s face it, most gym-goers drive to the gym) to walk on a treadmill and/or do things we commonly do (or should be doing)?  This treadmill may have a place—e.g., firehouses and combat units—however, a little bit of innovation is probably warranted.  Of course, I don’t want to crush “some young entrepreneur’s dreams”, and I trust there will be a market for the product, so let’s focus on this idea of “functional training”.

First, if we go to the health-related components of physical fitness—cardiorespiratory, muscle strength, muscle endurance, flexibility, and body composition—the principle of specificity applies and these are covered, quite simply, with the basics: traditional cardio exercise, the ‘basic 5’ (squat, deadlift, bench, overhead press, and rows), and energy system management (i.e., varying repetitions and recovery to specific needs and goals).  Anything else must then apply to motor skill-related physical fitness—speed, power, agility, balance, coordination, and reaction time.  Want to be functional?  Much of this comes with sports conditioning or other specificity-driven exercise.  So, unless your sport or job demands it (and I would argue that, if it does, you are already applying the health-related exercise in doing the job), simulating the sport or labor task as a component of “conditioning” is unnecessary.  In other words, rather than swing a hammer on a truck tire, chop wood.  Rather than walk on a treadmill carrying weights, walk around the neighborhood with weights—or better walk to and from the grocery!

Let’s not over-complicate exercise and life by trying to be too creative.  Up the demands of your activities of daily living and progress your exercise to meet these demands.  “Functional training” should mean to train to improve function, not train by doing things that should be normal functions.

Be your best today; be better tomorrow!

Carpe momento!

Image source: https://images.askmen.com/1080×540/sports/bodybuilding/functional-training-1101897-TwoByOne.jpg

My son started preseason wrestling with his club team on Monday.  It is secondary to football until November, but something he wanted to do.  Of course, as a twelve-year-old, he waited until just hours before practice to try on his wrestling shoes.  We bought them big last season, and I hadn’t given any thought to them not fitting for this preseason.  The “old” shoes are 9-1/2s.  He is now wearing 11s.  Fortunately, I had a pair of size 12s for him to wear the first night.  Amazon will have a new pair to him by his next practice.

Having my “little” boy wear my shoes has, like so many things in the lives of my children, caused me pause.  Of course, I am reflecting on how fast he is growing up and how time is flying by, but, moreover, it has caused me to think about him filling my shoes and my role in who he is becoming.

I have enjoyed reading Season of Life by Jeffrey Marx several times.  Subsequently, I try to read InSideOut Coaching by Joe Ehrmann once a year or so.  Both books chronicle Joe Ehrmann’s philosophy of “building men (and women) for others”.  Like Joe Ehrmann, I prefer to see my success as a parent, teacher, and/or coach as a long-term accomplishment.  In other words, my success (hopefully not failure) as a parent will be seen in my children (and students) years from now in their employment, their relationships, etc. 

So, my son beginning to “fill my shoes” reminds me that my time is short.  The opportunities are now.  If ever carpe momento applies, it is certainly in parenting.

Parenting is not something we can put off until tomorrow.  It is not for us to pass off to another.  Otherwise, we might get caught with shoes that are too small.

I often feel like I am too hard on my kids.  Maybe I have too many rules?  Maybe I need to let them just be kids?  Of course, I come to my senses and realize that they don’t have to like me today.  They have to become good citizens—and that is on me, if they don’t.

There is that time in parenting when we catch ourselves thinking: “I sound just like my father.”  Perhaps, for some, this is really not a good thing.  For me, I think it with some satisfaction—much satisfaction.  I know there were times when I rolled my eyes or moaned like my son after my parents corrected me for something.  Of course, I didn’t appreciate it at the time, but I am who I am because my parents cared more about loving me than me liking them.

I grew into my father’s shoes.  And, hopefully, I have outgrown them—just like I hope my son will outgrow mine.  Now, while it may be literal that I have grown larger than my father—and I suspect my son will literally be bigger than me.  My hope is that there is a figurative generational “outgrowing” that has and will occur.  “Better” is an awkward word to use here.  I am by no means superior to my father, but, I am sure, he would say I have grown (or am growing) into a better man than him.  We are, after all, given what we are given to work with and expected to pass on the lessons to the next generation.  We grow and hope that our children grow more.  We make mistakes, but, if we do our job as parents, we help prevent the next generation from repeating them.  The shoes get passed on.

So, as my son wears my shoes in practice.  I see they are still a little big on him and I have work to do.  I see that he is becoming a man—with or without me.  It is my opportunity—my responsibility—to see that he becomes a man of gentle strength and character.  I certainly welcome the help I am receiving from others—family, coaches, teachers, etc.—but I see my opportunity is fleeting.

Carpe momento!

We are a society that seems to prefer to focus on the negatives.  We ignore the greater good that is happening around us.

We fault Millennials and Generation Xs (and whatever other labels we are giving the youth today), yet forget that they are what the generation before them raised them to be.  Thus, we fault the kids, but fail to credit the parents.  Moreover, we fail to applaud the parents who are doing a difficult job well.  And, friends, there a great number of them who are doing it well.

As a professor, I interact with young people almost daily.  For four years or so, these “kids” are my students.  Upon graduation, they become my peers.  Some even become my friends.  Through social media, I am able to track their progress beyond graduation—when the real success or failure of my teaching can reveal itself.  Honestly, some surprise me.  I have had some real “goofballs” go on to do great things.  I have an impact on the students (and hopefully a positive one), but I am working off of what they bring to college—parents, coaches, friends, relatives, … and past teachers.  I can very quickly register an impression of what these influences were like.

I sometimes meet the parents and friends.  I rarely meet the coaches and teachers.  Because my students will all be leaders and managing behaviors, albeit not necessarily with the title of “coach”, I have them write a “Coaching Philosophy” paper in one of my classes.  In this they write about experiences with good and bad coaches and how these have shaped how they lead to behavioral change.  Not surprisingly, a great number of students will list a parent as an influential coach.  Through this project, I get a glimpse of the influences they have had through their coaches.

I can only infer the influence of teachers—unless the students share.  I, personally, credit many of my teachers in my teaching—e.g., Ms. Romano for Math, Mrs. Moore for English, and many more.  I can usually tell a bit about the experience that students have had in various subjects but their confidence and performance in these.  Truthfully, it bothers me when college students tell me they “can’t do math” or they “aren’t good at math”.  This is usually when I tell them “’Can’t’ never did anything” and something to the effect of “your math teachers failed you.”  After all, I am not expecting them to do high-level math.  I only ask what I know they have the intelligence to comprehend.  Much the same goes for writing.

Ultimately, the greatest influence falls upon the parents.  I get bothered at an institution that prefers the emphasis the number of students who are “first-generation college students”.  I get bothered by this because it is often followed with a lower of expectations.  Granted the first-generation college student might have a bit more of a challenge managing the bureaucracy at a university or college, but it is not an excuse to lessen the challenge.  It has been my experience that first-generation college students can be among the best students—because their parents have instilled in them the drive and the hunger for opportunity.  I fail these parents if I don’t bring out the absolute best in their children.

I can usually tell within a few meetings which students have parents who have given them the skills to succeed.  I am grateful for those who have taught their children the meaning of hard work and the role of failure. 

I am less impressed with the grade a student gets on an exam than with what they do with the graded exam.  If a student gets an A on an exam because the test did not challenge them or the coin fell in their favor, I fail as a teacher.  If a student gets a C (or lower) and does nothing other than look at the score, we both fail.  If, however, a student looks at the red marks (yes, I am one of those teachers who marks in red—so, get over it!) and examines why they missed the question and what they don’t know—and they make the effort to learn what they don’t know, that is success!  In my opinion, tests are not to show me what the students know.  Rather, tests are to show us what the students don’t know—and to correct this.

Such is life.  Such is also the role of the parent.  As parents, we love to see our children succeed.  So, often, we shield them from failure.  (This seems to be worsening in society.)  We must, however, teach our young people to embrace the struggle and pursue growth.

I was inspired by the news of one of my former students receiving a commission as an officer in the United States Marine Corps.  He related a story of his parents making him work to earn the money to buy knife he wanted.  He earned the $50 a few coins at a time, and I sensed the pride of his parents and of the young man as he told of the day his dad took him to but the knife.  I am sure this is one of many lesson he learned from his parents—who deserve some applause today.  He is a story similar to many of my students.  In reading his, I was caused to pause and reflect on the many students I have had over more than 20 years and what they are doing today.  The ones who have learned the value of the struggle are the cream that have risen to the top.  I am proud of them and grateful for the parents and the influences in their lives.

I am hard on my own children.  Sometimes (comparing myself to others) I question if I am too hard, but then I get a glimpse of the kinds of people into whom my children are growing.  I am also grateful for the coaches who have had a positive influence on my children.  I am not so likely to give a break to my children’s teachers.  I want them to push my kids and elevate the expectations.  I expect much of them, but I am grateful for them (certainly some more than others).  I can, however, only have high expectations for coaches and teachers if I have higher expectations for myself as a parent.  It is harder for teachers and coaches when parents don’t parent well.  So, parents, step up your game!

Be your best today; be better tomorrow!

Carpe momento!