Channeling Change
May 7, 2014
In the ubiquitous discourse about global warming and rising seas, one school of thought follows this thread: (1) global warming’s fundamental cause is beyond human behavior; but (2) changing human behaviors could slow the rate of warming; and (3) these changed behaviors would improve the environment and the quality of existence for all the globe’s life forms and therefore should be promoted even if they cannot affect the ultimate warming of the planet.
Among those who admit to the inevitability that the planet will continue to warm regardless of humans’ best efforts are those who believe we should be planning for elevated sea levels now, not by working on ways to keep the rising waters out, but on innovative means of letting the water in.
With the Dutch, for example, among models, it is suggested that coastal communities begin today to build networks of canals that allow water to flow inland along planned routes that people can use and enjoy, and that the seawater be directed to places desperate for hydropower or where this seawater can be made free of unwanted species and fresh for human use and agriculture.
Rather than building walls to keep the water out, build canals to let water in to be cleansed and used for our betterment.
This caused me to wonder if this kind of thinking would help us in school sports to reframe discussion on problems that seem too large for us to solve. Like the negative influence of non-school sports on interscholastic athletics and rules that limit out-of-season coaching of students by school coaches.
Out-of-season coaching is one of the focus topics for the MHSAA during the second half of 2014, and this image in response to global warming is one of several we may use to reframe discussion before we attempt to rewrite the rules. Are there ways to channel negative situations toward positive results . . . without the threat of introducing invasive species?
Tools of Thought
July 13, 2018
(This blog first appeared on MHSAA.com on May 11, 2012.)
I am famous at home and office for my lack of keyboarding skills. The only “C” grade I received in high school was a summer school course in what was then called “typing.” At Dartmouth I paid a woman who worked at the dining hall to type my college papers. In an early job at the University of Wisconsin I typed the play-by-play of Badger football and basketball games with a clumsy “hunt-and-peck” approach.
Today, with the same lack of style, I pound out dozens of emails daily, hammering the keys like my first manual typewriter required four decades ago.
But for any document of great length or importance, I do as I’ve always done: take up pencil (my software) and legal pad (my hardware). There is no question that, for me, the nature of the equipment I’m using for writing affects the nature of the thinking.
With his eyesight failing late in his life, Freidrich Nietzsche bought his first typewriter, changing from pen and paper to the new technology of the 1800s. According to a 2008 article in Atlantic Monthly by Nichols Carr, a friend wrote to Nietzsche in a letter that, since adapting to the telegraphic style, Nietzsche’s terse prose had become even tighter. To which Nietzsche replied: “You are right, our writing equipment takes part in the forming of our thoughts.”
Which makes one wonder where all today’s tweeting and texting may take us.