The Work I Want
December 22, 2015
I am long past the point of working because I have to. I work because I want to.
- Because I’m lucky to work with co-workers I enjoy and a board I care about and whose members care about me.
- Because I’m blessed to have work with a mission beyond the bottom line;
- Because I see needs that I feel qualified to fill very well;
- And, I’m equally certain, because I have needs that this work fulfills.
On some days or for some tasks, my passion is not great; but on most days and for most responsibilities I have, my passion is as great as ever. And it has never been greater for what I care about most. And that is to hold school sports accountable to ...
- Pursue programs, policies and procedures that emphasize local opportunities for large numbers of students in a healthy, respectful, educational environment; and
- Resist pressures to copy the elitism and commercialism of non-school programs.
There are more than enough people advocating that “anything goes.” My voice argues, “Not so fast.” I would much rather see school sports tackle a half-dozen difficult health and safety issues than spend a half-minute debating national travel and tournaments. The former needs all the passion we can generate; the latter has nothing whatsoever to do with the moral imperatives of school sports, and wastes our precious time.
Making a Statement
June 17, 2015
Amid the horrific destruction of Baghdad, the conductor of the Iraqi National Symphony Orchestra, Karim Wasfi, is making a statement. Mr. Wasfi has been carrying a chair and his beloved cello to the exact locations where violence occurs, very shortly after it occurs, and he plays.
With the roar of car bombs still ringing in ears and rubble still smoking, Wasfi plays. He told National Public Radio: “The other side chose to turn every element, every aspect of life in Iraq into a battle zone. I chose to turn every corner of Iraq into a spot for civility, beauty and compassion.”
The response of this single citizen to the catastrophic chaos in his city and country is especially powerful because of the beauty of his music amidst the brutality of civil war; but neither his gift nor the jolting juxtaposition should cause us to miss the message that our response to overwhelming problems could be and should be like his, even if less newsworthy from the perspective of a national radio broadcast. For example ...
- We can wring our hands in despair that the Earth’s increasingly polluted air, land and waters are so far gone and the problem is of such great scale that nothing we could ever do will change things; or, we can choose to turn every corner of our little slice of the physical world into a less polluted place. We can make a statement.
- We can weep over the slaughter of elephants, the leveling of mountains or the razing of forests or jungles by crooks or corporations that cannot see the consequences of their reckless avarice; or, we can choose to make our neighborhoods spots of beauty, conservation and sustainability. A statement.
- We can cry ourselves to sleep over humanity’s inhumanity to those who look, dress or worship differently; or, we can choose to make our little community a welcoming place for refugees where long-suffering and persecuted people can feel safe and hopeful. A statement.
- And we can become frustrated that the values of school sports are so regularly undermined by the excesses of youth, college, professional and international sports that it feels hopeless to hang onto what we believe; or, we can choose to devote ourselves to maintaining our little niche of the sports world as a more principled place ... where scholarship, sportsmanship, safety and a sensible scope are recognizable and reliable core values. A statement.
The great conductor carrying his chair and cello to the rubble is real. It’s also a metaphor which reminds the rest of us of other daunting problems and the opportunity each individual person has to make a meaningful response – a clear statement – where we live, work and play.