Who’s Listening?
August 1, 2014
In an organization as diverse as this one, including that some schools are located more than a 10-hour drive from others and some schools are 100 times larger than others, differences of opinion about policies, procedures and programs are inevitable – and so are complaints about the decisions the organization makes.
One of the criticisms that decision-makers can count on from constituents is that they don’t listen well to or consult adequately with those affected by their decisions. Generally, such criticism comes from those who favored a different decision. They complain about the process when it’s really the result of the process that bothers them.
From where I sit, sometimes the target of such criticism, I often wonder if the pot is calling the kettle black. I wonder if the critics are listening attentively or at all to their own constituents. For example:
- While a significant minority of school administrators complain of the burdens of the MHSAA’s increasing requirements for coaches education focused on health and safety, nearly 100 percent of their parents want even more than the MHSAA is mandating – they want what we’re requiring sooner than we are requiring it, and they want even more required.
- While it’s only slightly more than half of school administrators who want the MHSAA’s role and authority to begin before the 7th grade and want schools running those younger grade level sports programs, nearly 100 percent of students and their parents want these things to happen, and they have for a long time.
When I bring these two topics up to students or speak to local parent groups or county school board associations, I can count on getting an earful of impatient suggestions.
So while some school administrators might complain that the MHSAA isn’t listening well enough to them, I wonder if those critics are listening well enough to their own constituents.
In An Instant
August 4, 2015
The icebergs that enter the harbors along Newfoundland’s north shore started to form thousands of years ago. They broke from ice flows 10 times their size and then got caught in a current that carried them on a 1,000-mile, two-year journey to “Iceberg Alley.” Some of them drift into harbors and, with seven-eighths of their mass below the surface, they get grounded. Eventually they break apart and disappear.
My wife and I “discovered” one of these grounded ‘bergs near the shore of cozy little Coffee Cove. After a 15-minute hike, we got closer to this sparkling monster than third base is to home plate. We each snapped dozens of pictures.
Just as we were turning to begin our hike back to “civilization,” we heard what we thought was a loud gunshot. But what actually occurred was a portion of the iceberg breaking off and falling into the water.
What we had taken pictures of moments earlier no longer existed as it had at that time. In an instant, the iceberg had changed, without respect for the thousands of years in the making and the hundreds of miles of traveling.
A few days after we returned to Michigan, Rich Tompkins died, apparently healthy, just after waterskiing. Death came without respect for the miles Rich had traveled to serve student-athletes and coaches, and without regard to all the victories his teams had earned and MHSAA championships they had won.
I last saw Rich on Valentine’s Day at the first-ever Fremont High School Hall of Fame induction banquet where Rich and many of his athletes were honored. The pictures taken that night are of people and circumstances that can never be reassembled.
We need to more fully appreciate the miracle of such moments. They can be gone in an instant.