It's around midnight on a Friday -- my, how life has changed. Instead of being up to no good or out socializing, I'm sitting at the dining room table, munching on nachos and wondering when my son might wake up next. Sleep isn't coming easily tonight. I'm trying to muster up the strength to convince myself that this upcoming school year will be a good one, but I'm hitting too many roadblocks. Trying to look beyond all of the negatives that have already begun looming is proving to be quite difficult. Looking at where I'm at right now really makes me wonder how I got here in the first place.
Each and every one of us is where we are right now because God has plans for us all. Sure, we all have hit many forks in the road along the way, making some smart decisions that take us to nice places or making poor decisions that put us on lousy detours, but God has always guided us. He always gives us signs; the highway of life isn't as poorly marked as we sometimes claim it to be. Often, we simply overlook the obvious mile markers and warning signs along the way. We become too obtuse or too distracted to see the signs as we approach them, but they are frustratingly visible as we look back on the road we've just traveled.
I ask you this question: Wherever you are right now, how did you get there? What are some of the pivotal events in your life that have steered you toward this very moment? What are these top 5 events?
I look at my current job as an English teacher and wrestling coach, and my "Top 5" list is easy to make. Here is a recap of the journey I've been on:
1) Watching "Clash of the Titans" for the first time interested me in Greek mythology, which is one of my favorite parts of teaching. The movie was cheesy as can be, but it triggered something in me. It gave rise to a life-long enjoyment of mythology. As an eight-year-old boy, I was more interested in the sword fights, the flying horse, the ghastly Gorgon, and the heroism of Perseus than I was about anything else from the story. This was the first time I remember being interested in something remotely academic. I wanted more of the story, more of the mythology. I discovered Edith Hamilton's "Mythology" and read it cover to cover in 3rd grade. My teacher, who up to that point must have written me off as an ornery pain in the butt, admitted to me that she was impressed with how I voluntarily read about a subject that she never studied until she was in college. From that book, I learned all about the Olympians and their symbolic importances, heroes such as Odysseus (I pronounced his name "Oh-dee-soos") and Heracles (I'd always thought his name was Hercules...), and stories of transformation, love, or punishment. From the Greek stories I discovered Roman and later Norse mythology, and to this day I remember vividly countless times when I found myself speaking expertly on matters relating to the ancient Greeks.
2) Senior AP English was not really an event, but more of a culmination of events. My 2nd semester class had only 6 of us in it, and I vividly remember when Mrs. Davis told me that I had a knack for poetry. I had been sitting in my desk, either nodding off or pretending that I had actually read the assignment (and praying she wouldn't call on me), and I earnestly answered a question about a poem. It was the direct eye contact from the teacher, the sincere tone of her voice, and the pleased smile as she said it. My mother had always forced me into taking these honors classes, and I floundered my way through the English ones -- either barely making a B or almost getting an A -- but it was my final semester of high school English that I earned my first-ever A in an honors English class. I had feared that Honors English would be the death of my GPA, but that dedication and forced-patience really came through, and I don't think I ever would have found it had it not been for the confidence given me by that one teacher.
3) Sophomore year helping coach at the 9th/10th Topeka High wrestling meet. Coach Harris wouldn't let me wrestle; he said something about it not being appropriate for me to wrestle down a level. Although I wouldn't be allowed to compete, I wanted to support the team and help out. They had the meet spread out between two gymnasiums and there were only two coaches there. When we had multiple kids wrestling and both coaches were already occupied with other matches, I felt obliged to coach from the corner. It felt natural to me. Eventually, one of the coaches made it to the mat and took over, but it was at this meet that I jokingly told Coach (Kit) Harris that I was after his job. Four years later, I was his assistant coach at Baldwin. I eventually did take over his job three times, to be exact (we both taught video productions, we're both English teachers, and he was once the head coach at WR).
4)Calc II study group my freshman year in college. Five or six of us met once a week in the library to go over problems assigned by the teacher (I won't say he was boring, but at the time I couldn't care less during his lectures). The frustrating thing about college math classes is that you don't have to turn in your daily assignments. When I realized this, I began to skip out on the assigned problems. One thing led to another and I found myself no longer at the head of the math class, as I had been in high school, and now at the bottom. During our study groups, I was actually doing the problems and understanding them; I began walking the others through the homework. Something felt right about the teaching part of it when I was able to explain the material to my confounded classmates. It was either Jeff or David that told me I had a knack for teaching.
5) Being a real wrestling coach for the first time. My freshman year in college, I helped out at Washburn Rural Middle School. The downside of this gig was that it meant I had to drive 45 minutes each way, every day for two months, but the upside was that it opened a new set of doors for me. I had a great deal of fun, and it really helped me figure out what to do next at a time where I wasn't all that sure as to where I was going or when I would get there. At the time, I was set to major in pre-engineering and go off after getting my BS to build bridges and construct dams and reservoirs. All I knew was that I wanted to make some money, I was good at math and physics, and my guidance counselor in high school had suggested engineering as a good career for me. From the time I started coaching, it wasn't long before I changed my major to mathematics with the intent to teach math. The next year I changed again from math to English and entered the school of education. Being a novice coach definitely convinced me that I could be a good coach, but it also taught me a thing or two about maturity. Working with 7th and 8th grade kids wasn't something I wanted to do the rest of my life, however.
And here I am, about to enter my 8th year as a teacher and my 6th year as a head coach. I know I haven't yet reached my destination, but remembering how I got here helps me forget the negatives that are already threatening to make this upcoming year a lousy one. It helps remind me of the excitement I feel thinking of being in front of a class or on the wrestling mat.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Friday, August 6, 2010
On the Redistribution of Wealth
Call it naivete... big oil, drug companies, and Wall Street are the targets of those who think our economic system is flawed, but why don't they ever target the entertainment industry? Seriously, are there any bigger crooks than those at the top of pro sports, film, and music?

It kinda makes me laugh when politicians start spouting off about the business maneuvers of college sports, too. How about redistributing the multi-million dollar deals these folks are making? Oh yeah... heroes don't make good scapegoats. When you try to crucify those whom our children, our neighbors, and our peers look up to as heroes, you make them martyrs.
I used to ask the question, "Why do pro athletes make so much money?" The football, baseball, hockey, basketball, etc. players have such obscene contracts that it seems ridiculous and absolutely insane to think that someone could actually make seven or eight figure salaries just for a game when those who heal the sick, teach our children, and protect our streets make so little.
I used to think about how stupid it was for someone to leave college to enter the NBA draft early. My old government teacher explained it perfectly. They enter the draft early because they can. Because they're the best at what they do. Because this may be their only chance to make that kind of money. They can go back to college at any point they decide to do so, but the chance to play pro could vanish quickly for them. But why do they make so much money? I wondered how much this phenomenon affected public perception of the value of higher education and loyalty to a team or school. Why such gross salaries? Because people want to see them play. They want to see their teams win. They want to wear their heroes' jerseys and to play their avatars on video games. These pro athletes make people happy.
The government would never enter the pro sports realm to regulate or take over the business. Pro sports entertain and distract the people. Think about it -- all of the people who shell out big bucks to sit high up in the arena or stadium or those who brave rainy or below-freezing weather for hours -- what impels them to do this? Think about all the times government has taken time to hold hearings regarding sports (steroids in baseball, NCAA conference disputes, etcm) yet they never actually take charge of anything. No, the pro sports realm is untouchable.
The real crooks are those in big business -- the bankers, the oil men, drug makers, and all of those other capitalists who rake the little people over the coals just to make a profit. Nevermind the unethical pro athletes and how they have warped the minds and expectations of the youth of America. Nevermind the huge presence of gambling behind the scenes with sports. Nevermind the drastic impact that pro sports have on the bodies of its athletes. People make choices -- they choose their idols, they choose to gamble, and they choose to enter into a dangerous profession. They make their choices knowing the risks. Some come out on top and some dither away at the bottom after having crashed and burned.
Choices are made and risks are taken in the world of pro sports and its neighboring spheres. Consequences are and rewards are reaped by those who enter into this realm. Those hurt in the process are collateral damage. But what's the difference between this form of capitalism and the forms that the radicals and progressives are targeting? Like I said before, pro athletes aren't good scapegoats.

It kinda makes me laugh when politicians start spouting off about the business maneuvers of college sports, too. How about redistributing the multi-million dollar deals these folks are making? Oh yeah... heroes don't make good scapegoats. When you try to crucify those whom our children, our neighbors, and our peers look up to as heroes, you make them martyrs.
I used to ask the question, "Why do pro athletes make so much money?" The football, baseball, hockey, basketball, etc. players have such obscene contracts that it seems ridiculous and absolutely insane to think that someone could actually make seven or eight figure salaries just for a game when those who heal the sick, teach our children, and protect our streets make so little.
I used to think about how stupid it was for someone to leave college to enter the NBA draft early. My old government teacher explained it perfectly. They enter the draft early because they can. Because they're the best at what they do. Because this may be their only chance to make that kind of money. They can go back to college at any point they decide to do so, but the chance to play pro could vanish quickly for them. But why do they make so much money? I wondered how much this phenomenon affected public perception of the value of higher education and loyalty to a team or school. Why such gross salaries? Because people want to see them play. They want to see their teams win. They want to wear their heroes' jerseys and to play their avatars on video games. These pro athletes make people happy.
The government would never enter the pro sports realm to regulate or take over the business. Pro sports entertain and distract the people. Think about it -- all of the people who shell out big bucks to sit high up in the arena or stadium or those who brave rainy or below-freezing weather for hours -- what impels them to do this? Think about all the times government has taken time to hold hearings regarding sports (steroids in baseball, NCAA conference disputes, etcm) yet they never actually take charge of anything. No, the pro sports realm is untouchable.
The real crooks are those in big business -- the bankers, the oil men, drug makers, and all of those other capitalists who rake the little people over the coals just to make a profit. Nevermind the unethical pro athletes and how they have warped the minds and expectations of the youth of America. Nevermind the huge presence of gambling behind the scenes with sports. Nevermind the drastic impact that pro sports have on the bodies of its athletes. People make choices -- they choose their idols, they choose to gamble, and they choose to enter into a dangerous profession. They make their choices knowing the risks. Some come out on top and some dither away at the bottom after having crashed and burned.
Choices are made and risks are taken in the world of pro sports and its neighboring spheres. Consequences are and rewards are reaped by those who enter into this realm. Those hurt in the process are collateral damage. But what's the difference between this form of capitalism and the forms that the radicals and progressives are targeting? Like I said before, pro athletes aren't good scapegoats.
Do I disgrace the fish i catch?
Author Norman Maclean wrote, "Nobody who did not know how to fish would be allowed to disgrace a fish by catching him." Lately, I've been feeling like this apples to me. I started fly fishing two years ago, but I've got so much more to learn.
I came back from my Wyoming trip wanting to learn all I could about fly fishing, to be as adept and artful as the men on "A River Runs Through It." When I went to a local outdoorsman store and asked about fly fishing tackle, the owner laughed and said that one couldn't fly fish too many places in Kansas. It's too flat a state; the streams and creeks are too slow, too warm, and too muddy; and there aren't any trout out here naturally. My buddies who like to fish are all bait casters, and they scoff at fly fishing because it's too much work.
That's what I love about it. It's involving and active the entire time. I can go fishing for a morning, an afternoon, or even all day, and I can't believe how fast the time flies by. The only activity that passes time quicker than fly fishing is sleep. I go an entire day not realizing I hadn't eaten or that I've gotten a nasty sun burn.
I don't catch much and my casting is ugly at times. I lose all my good flies before their use wears out. They end up snagged in trees, stuck in the mouths of fish too heavy for my line, or hooked on a limb or rock under the surface. I can count the number of boast-worthy catches on one hand -- the 5-pound largemouth from Grandpa Rex's pond last June, the channel catfish from Dan Davis's uncle's pond last September, the wiper from the Clinton Lake dam last summer, and the 14-inch rainbow I pulled out of Bennett Springs two years ago. I've pulled lots of catfish out of the lakes and ponds, and I catch the dickens out of bluegill and other smaller panfish. I'm not too lucky with the largemouth bass, though.
It's a funny thing that I don't even like to eat fish that much. I'm not keen for a trophy, either. So why do I like to fish?
It's the solitude and the communion with nature. It's the art and technique of casting in adverse conditions. It's the strategy and challenge of the hunt. It's the rushing rapids, the croaking frogs, and the chirping crickets. The cool refreshing feeling of having my feet in the shallows or standing in waders in a stream. The unique alarm when you first spot a fish swimming close by, sneaking up on you and darting away when one of you notices the other. The sight of underwater life in action, whether it be fish feeding, crawdads scuttling, or snakes slithering. It's the fact that a lousy day of fishing seems to wipe the worst of days off your mind; even when the fishing is lousy, it's still a pretty good day.
I can't say I know how to fish all that well. When I show up at the lake or on some pond and others are also out there fishing, I know the look that I often receive. "Ah, this guy's a trout fisherman," is the overt recognition, but the underlying assumption seems to be that anyone wielding a fly rod is some sort of purist or snob. Anyone wielding a fly rod must be a very adept fisherman. Well, I'm neither a snob nor a pro. I don't look down on those with "regular" rods; the only rod I own (or want to own) is my fly rod. I don't care if the others have more luck, can cast farther, or catch larger fish. I just enjoy the technique, the repetition, and the hard work that goes into fly fishing. I'm still learning the art -- or the sport, whichever you want to call it.
So far, I don't really share this passion for fly fishing with anyone. For me, it's not so much about socializing as it is about finding an inner peace. I don't mind fishing in company -- it's actually a lot of fun most of thet time -- and I don't let my self-consciousness get the better of me. Most of the time I completely phase out anyone around me, but there's a certain satisfaction that comes from landing a fish after a hard fight when there are witnesses present. I just wish I would be able to experience others witnessing me landing a fish more often than I end up snagging or tangling my line in front of others. Nevertheless, when fly fishing, my desire is not just to perfect my abilities as best as I can so that I catch fish not by accident, but by intent and by art. Moreover, I simply wish to look back and be able to say, "I can't believe it's so late," not having a clue how time passed so quickly. To be able to pack up a full box of flies and not be frustrated at losing so many effective (and costly) flies. To be able to exercise humility when people ask how the day went instead of having to pretend I didn't care so much about getting skunked.
I came back from my Wyoming trip wanting to learn all I could about fly fishing, to be as adept and artful as the men on "A River Runs Through It." When I went to a local outdoorsman store and asked about fly fishing tackle, the owner laughed and said that one couldn't fly fish too many places in Kansas. It's too flat a state; the streams and creeks are too slow, too warm, and too muddy; and there aren't any trout out here naturally. My buddies who like to fish are all bait casters, and they scoff at fly fishing because it's too much work.
That's what I love about it. It's involving and active the entire time. I can go fishing for a morning, an afternoon, or even all day, and I can't believe how fast the time flies by. The only activity that passes time quicker than fly fishing is sleep. I go an entire day not realizing I hadn't eaten or that I've gotten a nasty sun burn.
I don't catch much and my casting is ugly at times. I lose all my good flies before their use wears out. They end up snagged in trees, stuck in the mouths of fish too heavy for my line, or hooked on a limb or rock under the surface. I can count the number of boast-worthy catches on one hand -- the 5-pound largemouth from Grandpa Rex's pond last June, the channel catfish from Dan Davis's uncle's pond last September, the wiper from the Clinton Lake dam last summer, and the 14-inch rainbow I pulled out of Bennett Springs two years ago. I've pulled lots of catfish out of the lakes and ponds, and I catch the dickens out of bluegill and other smaller panfish. I'm not too lucky with the largemouth bass, though.
It's a funny thing that I don't even like to eat fish that much. I'm not keen for a trophy, either. So why do I like to fish?
It's the solitude and the communion with nature. It's the art and technique of casting in adverse conditions. It's the strategy and challenge of the hunt. It's the rushing rapids, the croaking frogs, and the chirping crickets. The cool refreshing feeling of having my feet in the shallows or standing in waders in a stream. The unique alarm when you first spot a fish swimming close by, sneaking up on you and darting away when one of you notices the other. The sight of underwater life in action, whether it be fish feeding, crawdads scuttling, or snakes slithering. It's the fact that a lousy day of fishing seems to wipe the worst of days off your mind; even when the fishing is lousy, it's still a pretty good day.
I can't say I know how to fish all that well. When I show up at the lake or on some pond and others are also out there fishing, I know the look that I often receive. "Ah, this guy's a trout fisherman," is the overt recognition, but the underlying assumption seems to be that anyone wielding a fly rod is some sort of purist or snob. Anyone wielding a fly rod must be a very adept fisherman. Well, I'm neither a snob nor a pro. I don't look down on those with "regular" rods; the only rod I own (or want to own) is my fly rod. I don't care if the others have more luck, can cast farther, or catch larger fish. I just enjoy the technique, the repetition, and the hard work that goes into fly fishing. I'm still learning the art -- or the sport, whichever you want to call it.
So far, I don't really share this passion for fly fishing with anyone. For me, it's not so much about socializing as it is about finding an inner peace. I don't mind fishing in company -- it's actually a lot of fun most of thet time -- and I don't let my self-consciousness get the better of me. Most of the time I completely phase out anyone around me, but there's a certain satisfaction that comes from landing a fish after a hard fight when there are witnesses present. I just wish I would be able to experience others witnessing me landing a fish more often than I end up snagging or tangling my line in front of others. Nevertheless, when fly fishing, my desire is not just to perfect my abilities as best as I can so that I catch fish not by accident, but by intent and by art. Moreover, I simply wish to look back and be able to say, "I can't believe it's so late," not having a clue how time passed so quickly. To be able to pack up a full box of flies and not be frustrated at losing so many effective (and costly) flies. To be able to exercise humility when people ask how the day went instead of having to pretend I didn't care so much about getting skunked.
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