We are at a crossroads in thought. In practice, I think we
are still far behind. But in thought, in the realm of contemplation I guarantee
you we are at a virtual crossroads. We
are standing at the intersection of commitment and competition. Imagine two street signs, each one pointing
in a different direction. There we are. Look at it. Ask yourself which road you are inclined to take. Know that you must choose one, you can’t have both. Pretend for a moment that they are one
hundred percent exclusive. What comes to
mind?
As an educator, I’ve watched the students who come from disadvantaged, inner city backgrounds shrivel in their seats when faced with a test. No matter what they learned—when asked to turn their desks forward for a quiz or a test, we’d lose them. Their confidence evaporates. Some act loud and mean and pretend they’re not scared and others simply slump over and sleep— either way, I’ve noticed it over and over again. Many children are intimidated with testing. During this first year notorious Common Core state exams, I observed many students give up on page three. Granted, the tests were seriously over reaching and so complex that teachers had difficulty figuring out the answers—but there was that something else I saw, that thing I’m thinking we should really start paying attention to. Children were not even trying. There was no engagement and motivation.
***
Every day I run four miles I celebrate my commitment to
running; to the balance of my mind, body & spirit. Years ago, in high
school when I ran track, I was labeled a sprinter. I envied the long distance
runners—such longevity, stamina. Much later
I realized that those students had learned discipline and stamina from
somewhere. Someone had given them the gift of coaching, the gift of encouragement, the
gift of time and space to build muscle, form and stamina. All of this together nurtured a commitment to
running.
As I expanded my academic understanding of ‘access’ and the
conditions necessary to achieve, I realized that those prep school students I
admired had always had access to a track or a quiet path in the country or safe
streets. They also had strong running shoes that could withstand the test of
time, sweat pants that fit properly, a sports bra, even.
When I first started running I thought about my failures in
the past— the cramp in my side, the fatal track meet I blogged about a few
years back. I felt completely inadequate
when I sized myself up next to those ‘others,’ not knowing that their
experiences had well prepared them while I was just starting, getting my first
glimpse into the real world of athletics. Remember that scene in the movie
Spanglish, where the beautiful Paz Vega is trying to outrun her boss, played by
Téa Leoni and she just can’t catch up? I watch that scene and I’m reminded of
all that I’m trying to explain here.
Overtime and many, many years later, I have worked hard to
build my running skills. I decided to become my own coach and give myself the
encouragement I needed to develop form, muscle and stamina. I spent a little more on running shoes and
found a track that I could safely practice. Even so, I still shy away from teams, track
groups and marathons because I’m not interested in competition or comparing
myself with others. Perhaps this reticence to compete stems from my social &
emotional development as a teenager when the competition and comparison with
others thwarted my confidence, rather than motivated me.
As an educator, I’ve watched the students who come from disadvantaged, inner city backgrounds shrivel in their seats when faced with a test. No matter what they learned—when asked to turn their desks forward for a quiz or a test, we’d lose them. Their confidence evaporates. Some act loud and mean and pretend they’re not scared and others simply slump over and sleep— either way, I’ve noticed it over and over again. Many children are intimidated with testing. During this first year notorious Common Core state exams, I observed many students give up on page three. Granted, the tests were seriously over reaching and so complex that teachers had difficulty figuring out the answers—but there was that something else I saw, that thing I’m thinking we should really start paying attention to. Children were not even trying. There was no engagement and motivation.
Why?
Is it possible that competition kills engagement and
motivation, especially for children who come from disadvantaged backgrounds
who, for the most part have had very limited access to activities that would
build stamina, endurance and most importantly confidence? Human beings must learn the ebb and flow of
achievement. It is not something we are
born with. And the learning of this
skill does not happen overnight nor does it happen evenly over time. I’d venture to say that it’s developmentally
relative and socially conditioned. Achievement requires that a student
recognize the social and emotional states within oneself that are linked to
failure and success and to have the skills needed to pace and manage one’s
cognitive processes accordingly.[1]
What is commitment?
Let’s say we decide that we should choose commitment, over
competition in our schools. That education
is not about Racing to the Top or scoring well on a test. Instead, education is about developing
commitment to learning. Then we are
choosing to teach children not to give up, no matter what, to stay focused on a
goal, to develop, to progress.
Commitment is an internal driver, not an external driver. It brings you back to your own purpose, your
own fidelity to an intrinsic cause.
Commitment is regardless of what others are doing, it is a promise to
oneself that you will stay the course. Most importantly, the outcome in
commitment is unknown. Let me say that
again.
The outcome in
commitment is unknown.
When a person says, “I am committed” it speaks volumes.
You can depend on a committed person to grow, to
participate, to engage, to do, to be.
Competition has a beginning and an end.
Commitment stays infinitely.
Competition is a race, linear.
Commitment is a ring, circular.
As I read the news on the outcomes of the Common Core, I
contemplate how hundreds of schools across the country must feel facing this ‘another
failure,’ not to mention the thousands of children who were set up to fail--many
dealing with egregious conditions at home and at school.
Yes, I think that we are at a crossroads.
I don’t want my children to Race to the Top or to be a Child
Left Behind. I don’t want to make those things a mission in our life because it’s
the most empty of missions. I don’t want
my son or daughter to achieve or not to achieve because there’s some imaginary “gap,”
which pits him and her against another ethnicity or race, a demographic number,
a statistic, a social construct designed to divide. I want them to commit to the act of learning
for the joy of it. I want them to learn the
joy of discipline, longevity and long distance running. I want them to learn to be their own coaches
and to run with the sun and the trees blowing. I want them to want to learn for the sake of learning.
Tell me. Are we at a
crossroads?
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