To the Victor

So, our shelf is filling up with trophies. The Babydoll and The Baby Boy have a year or two of sports and activities under their belts, and they've been rewarded with trinkets at the end of each season. At this point, we've already been involved in dance, gymnastics, karate, baseball, softball, and basketball. I see the line of demarcation, when the activity starts to be recognizable as an actual sport; there are scores, winners, losers, rules, referee calls. I appreciate the entry level when they were around three years old and simply trying to figure what they were supposed to be doing. I also see that most activities have a separate realm for those who are "special" or "gifted" in an area. But now, I kind of wish there was a little more merit involved in general.

My children are likely not on their way to compete in anybody's Olympic games (for many reasons, including my belief in normalcy and refusal to spend all of my money or turn my life upside down) so leaning towards merit might also mean they would be left trophy-less. What I'm really thinking is that I want them to know when are really good at something and when they are just doing it for fun. When they need to work harder to master a skill. When they can look to their peers as an aspirational example. I'm sure that's coming, and I'm not so much looking forward to the pain of losing or failing--their pain or my pain because I am a horrible loser. But The Babydoll asked when she was playing softball, "What will happen if we don't win?" I didn't know how to answer that. The coaches explained that if they worked hard in practice, they would win more games than they lost, and they did. And when they did lose, they told the girls that they could learn from those games. But my answer to the question was basically, "Nothing." I meant that nothing bad would happen if they lost a game, like being poked with a red hot poker or forced to hit balls until they hands bled or banished from the game forever; but The Babydoll is also very Type A, so I wanted her to know that I would also not be angry with her if they lost. It made me a little uncomfortable, though, because nothing really did happen when they lost. They got the same trophies at the end of the season no matter how they played. That's true even for my son, who decided in the middle of the short season that he was waaayyy over the pushing and tackling for the balls that were pushed two feet and rolled off the tee. He thought it better to stand perfectly still the entire game and fake a tummy ache. Gymnastics seemed to sort of split the difference by giving scores during the meets (it's recreational, not elite) and ranking them, but they were ranked all the way to eighth or ninth place so that every girl in every category had a place on the podium. They still all received the exact same trophy, though. The Babydoll had a relatively high number, but I couldn't help but think that if I were number one in my category, I'd want my trophy to actually read #1. Then, there's that whole Tiger Mom thing, that suggests that there's great reward in pushing yourself to the limits and accomplishing something through sacrifice and extremely hard work. Then again, I value normalcy, and playing piano 80 hours a day just ain't normal . . . .

I'm sure this will take care of itself soon enough, as my children as still very young. The agony of defeat will show itself readily whether we want it to or not. And when I think of it again, this "trophy just for showing up" method serves my purpose quite well, as my thought was to allow them to try lots of activities while they are young so that they can see what they like and what they are good at for when they are older. (I think that teenagers need something to take up their time and something valuable to keep them on the straight and narrow--I have a lot of theories, huh?). So maybe it doesn't matter that they get a trophy for doing the minimum. Of course, I know that I'm paying for those trophies as much as if I just went to the store and bought them. In the end, our shelf is filling up with rewards, not awards. But maybe that's okay. For now.

Boys Don't Cry (and they don't take showers with grown men)

Once, DH and I were at a family event and his 7-year-old nephew was trying to lean on him. He made the boy get up. Later, when I questioned what I thought was unnecessary meanness, he told me the boy was too old to be laying up against a man like that. I relayed this incident to a male friend and he, too, agreed, sharing that his young nephew (the age escapes me, but he was younger than 7) had rested his hand on my friend's leg once and he promptly picked it up and moved it. Apparently, the end age for male touching comes pretty early in a boy's life.

So, a grown man--an unrelated grown man, especially-- taking a naked shower with a 10-year-old boy is just not supposed to be done. Even if and especially if it is "just horseplay." Come on, Jerry Sandusky, you have got to do better than that. As one of Herman Cain's accusers advised of him, just tell the truth so everyone can move forward.

Seriously.

Words, Words, Words

Clearly words matter and they have a premium attached!

I am appalled that the NFL thinks it owns the rights to the phrase "Who Dat." Who is dat?

I'm nobody's football fan and quite frankly, this weekend, Mickey Mouse could emerge the champion and I would be just as happy or sad, but it is wrong for some behemoth corporation to lay claim to a phrase that people have been using for years and years. How do you just get to own it? Because you say so?

Apparently, the NFL has backtracked since they first sent out cease-and-desist letters to store owners who were selling products with "Who Dat" on it and now they say you cannot sell the phrase in conjunction with trademarked Saints logo. Whatever. I believe they clearly thought they would be able to bully people into thinking they owned those words.

And this, my dear students, is why giving people credit for their words/works is so important.

I'm confused

So, I was watching this sports show (see how much I love TV--I'll watch practically anything!) with a profile about a recent high school graduate who has choosen to play basketball in Rome rather than sit out the required year before he can play in the NBA. He seems fairly miserable, not enjoying his new surroundings, even while living in what some might call an enviable vacation spot. I mean, how many people get to live in Europe the year after they graduate . . . and get paid fistfuls of money? When the interviewer asks if he's happy, the baller says, "Not really. But it's better than being in college. I could be sitting in class right now."

Huh?

So, sitting in class is a horrible condition? Isn't that what college is actually for? I know the whole back-and-forth about how sports brings money and recognition to universities, that they pay for themselves, and how the academics should basically shut up and be glad that the money's rolling in. I don't really have a dog in that fight since I went to college for, uh, college and had to take out loans for my trouble; I was too slow to be a quarterback, my jump shot sucks, and besides, I'm a girl. But maybe there's something to that argument, as annoying as it is.

My issue is that this dude seems to suggest that "sitting in a class" something nobody would want to do. That's really disturbing. But we still, perhaps, have to wonder what college is for. If it's the whole experience of learning, he can do that inside or outside a classroom. But this attitude seems to be that it's the actual learning that's objectionable. I feel sad for this fellow. There is pleasure to be found in the exchange of ideas and the fervor of intellectual pursuit. Is he experiencing that in any way? Even if he were only excited about basketball and learning about it, well, okay. Learning is about exploring the world. College should be a journey towards that. If the NBA is the only destination, what good is an new, alternate avenue when the journey doesn't matter? There's something sad about this.