Criticism
October 18, 2011
The phrase “throw in the towel” comes from the sport of boxing. It recalls a manager throwing a towel into the ring to stop a bout in which his boxer is getting badly beaten.
Over the years I watched a lot of administrators of schools and school sports throw in the towel as they’ve watched their ideas and ideals get bruised and battered, and as they suffered constant and frequently unfair criticism.
Criticism is a fickle thing. It can be motivating or maddening. To some people criticism is one or the other; to other people criticism sometimes has a positive effect, sometimes the opposite.
Criticism from a well-informed source who has tried to see the matter from multiple perspectives and who delivers the opinion privately will almost always have two positive effects. First, it will influence future thought processes and decisions. Second, it will establish a closer relationship – even a good friendship – between the parties.
It is criticism based on bad information or from a biased viewpoint delivered by gossip or in group settings that is least productive to the cause and most poisonous to the community.
But even bad news badly delivered can be motivating. While sometimes it may give rise to brief thoughts of “why bother?”, it more often motivates me to work harder, to serve better, to think wider and deeper, and to give more. This reaction is a result of many life experiences, including school and college sports participation.
Those of us who played competitive athletics were subject to much criticism throughout our playing careers. Sometimes it was unfair, and we learned to rise above it. But usually the criticism was from a coach who knew his or her stuff, who thought we could do better, and who was giving us the information to become better. While some people merely survive criticism, competitive athletics can teach us how to thrive on it.
No Returns or Refunds
January 18, 2013
The “Boxing Day” tradition of New Zealand, like most of the current or former British Empire, is to return to stores on the day after Christmas the unwanted or ill-fitting gifts of Christmas. My wife and I exchanged no gifts this year, except for the gift of time with each other and our China-based son and his wife in New Zealand. So we had nothing to return, and we’ve had moments to savor.
Outside our window on Christmas Day was an extinct volcano rising 758 feet above New Zealand’s Bay of Plenty coast. Its peak was hidden in clouds sent by the remnants of Cyclone Evan. We couldn’t see the top of Mt. Maunganui; but our fragment of the Roberts family who had gathered for this holiday, below the equator and on the other side of the International Dateline, decided on a “Christmas climb” anyway.
Attempting a challenge whose goal is shrouded in uncertainty is an every-season experience of coaches, which may be the opiate that draws so many men and women to that vocation for so long, and consumes coaches so far beyond what are reasonable hours for most other occupations.
Even in the more mundane existence of a state high school association administrator, it is the unknown of each year, week and day that energizes the grind. How boring it would be to know what’s at the end of each climb. How exciting it can be to come to a problem-solving table with good ideas and also with the expectation that the best ideas will come out of collaboration with others’ good ideas.
I count myself among the fortunate folks who, at the end of most days and weeks and years, do not feel inclined to want to return the gifts that each has brought. And I’m still attracted to the discovery of what the next cloud-shrouded climb may reveal.