Lockdown Logic
June 7, 2014
There recently were two fatal shootings within a single hour in the neighborhood of the MHSAA office; and for a couple hours, the killer evaded law enforcement authorities.
We locked the MHSAA’s doors and directed staff to remain in the office during the chase and capture. That evening on the local television news we learned the details of the day’s drama. And then sidebars to the main story developed, including criticism by parents who complained they were not alerted promptly enough when their children’s schools were locked down.
Several outraged parents complained that their school didn’t notify parents of the lockdown for a whole hour. Imagine that; that schools would worry first and foremost about students’ safety and only secondarily about notifying parents!
One local school administrator confided that before instant Internet communications, it was standard operating procedure to focus first on kids’ safety. Now, administrators worry about parents showing up at school and adding to the hazards.
There is almost intentional delay in notifying parents so they won’t be incited into rushing to school, risking their own safety and that of others, and complicating efforts of school personnel to protect children and of law enforcement personnel to pursue the bad guys.
Before the Internet age, hours could lapse before parents knew of unusual events near their children’s schools. Often the notice was put in writing and sent home with children at the end of the day. Now schools are criticized for even an hour’s delay, which might be just another of the growing list of unrealistic and unfair demands on our schools.
Fresh Air
June 30, 2014
On well over 300 of every 365 days each year I take a brisk early morning walk. One of the many things I’ve noticed over the years is how the smell of the exhaust of even a single passing automobile will stale the fresh air for several minutes after the vehicle is out of sight.
I’ve often thought there was a metaphor here that I could use in commenting on school sports; and my recent reading of Alistair MacLeod’s No Great Mischief gave shape to that thought when the novel’s central character said:
“. . . when we came to intersections, we would have to stop and then the blue whiteness of the exhaust would overtake us. We could see it and smell it. We thought we had left it behind us somewhere back on the road, but when we slowed down, it seemed to overtake and surround us.”
What we have in school sports that none of the so-called more “prestigious” brands of sports offer is fresh air. Purity. Wholesomeness.
This is our trump card, our ace-in-the-hole.
We lack the resources to compete on a marketing or promotional level with college and professional sports; and we look foolish and waste resources when we try.
But when we focus on local rivalries between nearby opponents – complete with pep bands and marching bands, fully-clad cheerleaders, pep assemblies, letter jackets and Homecoming parades and dances – we play to our strength. We’re local, amateur and just a touch corny. Charming is a better word.
As we travel in this direction, the air is clean and fresh. As we slow or even stop at the intersection of other choices, we will smell the foulness in the air and know immediately that the only course for educational athletics is the road we’re already on.