School Programs Can Serve Jock And Jogger Alike
Some of life’s greatest gifts come to us in disguise. That’s the lesson I began learning eons ago in high school.
In those tender years, I was a jock. Being born with the gift of speedy feet set me on that path early and to my young mind it was a gift.
While I could run fast, I couldn’t dribble a ball at the same time. The result: Basketball wasn’t an option and winter became an off season.
My track coach, being a wise man, didn’t want me lolling around all winter getting fat and paying attention to the girls instead of preparing myself for the upcoming season. There were track meets to be won and my speedy feet figured to play a part in those victories.
During those dark, cold months of winter, that wise coach unwittingly introduced me to my athletic “true love,” the joy of running the roads. Initially, I wasn’t crazy about it. I kind of liked the idea of a couple of lazy, girl-filled months before track season started.
Eventually, however, I began looking forward to those afternoon runs. What differentiated road running from the competitive track races of spring was that I loved road running for the pure joy of the running itself, not for the glamour of ribbons and medals and win-loss bragging rights. The love of those peaceful, unpressured runs stood in stark contrast to the uncomfortable, boring interval running of the track season.
That contrast, like a newly sown seed, quietly germinated in my mind.
It resurfaced in full bloom when I was 35. Overweight and recovering from an addiction to alcohol, I hit the roads again, hoping to get my life back in order. Within two months I was running distances I rarely achieved in high school. At four months I ran my first marathon. I was hooked! My times were only average but speed was no longer my objective.
Track had come perilously close to killing the natural love I had always had for running. I also realized that comfortable running on the roads was a viable lifelong pursuit. Its competitive cousin was suitable only for the young. So which pursuit in school, I asked myself, was the more worthwhile?
Fast-forward to the present. The Spokane schools recently instituted a no-cut policy for their elementary and middle school athletic programs. Though their rationale for this move misses the point, it’s a step in the right direction.
According to Frank Smoll, a sports psychologist at the University of Washington, the point of the no-cut policy is to avoid self-esteem problems that come with the rejection of being cut from a team. The trouble with his line of reasoning is that self-esteem doesn’t come from making a team automatically.
The self-esteem benefits that come with everybody-plays athletic programs lie in the joy of participating, learning, making new friends and developing habits that will serve the kids over time.
Real self-esteem, like true love, comes gradually and involves personal improvement and joy of participation. It is only diminished by being held up against the “superior” performances of the athletically gifted.
The more popular self-esteem that comes from making the cut and possibly being a standout athlete certainly has some positive benefits in the short run and even in the long run. But for the most part, it’s more like the gaudy, just-out-of-reach, short-lived infatuation of the young. Besides, it’s not in the cards for most kids.
Isn’t it about time we considered those kids when we design the athletic programs of the future?
Keep the varsity squad, but also find a way for all willing kids to participate at their own levels. Try to understand and trust that people don’t need competition to be motivated to better themselves and enjoy a healthy, happy lifestyle. That motivation is wired into all people and in many will find its way out more readily in the noncompetitive, comfortable milieu we adults decide to provide for children.
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