Fantasy Land
March 8, 2013
Advocating at the national level for unachievable ideals not only diminishes the importance of those achieving reasonable accomplishments at the grassroots level, it also threatens the future of organized sports for the masses; and few organizations in a position to know better are doing as much to create these unintended consequences as the National Athletic Trainers Association.
It is a NATA-driven “Youth Sports Safety Alliance” that has developed a six-page manifesto for youth sports, including NATA’s “Secondary School Student Athletes’ Bill of Rights” which is mostly beyond the means of youth sports sponsors, and has marched to Capitol Hill to urge the federal legislature’s action to pursue those goals, among which is the conveniently unstated objective of advancing job opportunities and security for athletic trainers themselves.
MHSAA surveys indicate that, conservatively, fewer than 20 percent of Michigan high schools and junior high/middle schools have a full-time certified athletic trainer on staff. In fact, only a minority of schools think such a full-time position is necessary, given other cheaper options available to them in the form of contracted services of medical groups and the volunteered services of many other medical professionals. An even smaller minority has the means to pay for a full-time certified athletic trainer, given all the cuts in state aid to schools; and many schools – urban, suburban, rural and remote – wonder where in their communities they would find a certified athletic trainer if such were mandated everywhere.
NATA’s earlier recommendations in the extreme for acclimatization of players at the start of the football season have already resulted in a state law in Maryland that football coaches there criticize for leading to a less safe sport now that they have less time to teach technique and prepare players for first-game contact. In theory, NATA’s notions are nice ideas; but in practice, they are less safe for the participants. And anything that is less safe for the participants not only endangers today’s players, it also jeopardizes the future of the game. Which, by the way, does nothing to enhance employment opportunities for trainers.
Towns Without Schools
September 18, 2015
"I forget the names of towns without rivers" is the opening line of a poem by Richard Hugo published in 1984, and recited by my fly fisherman son as he guided me on the Muskegon River last month.
My son thinks about rivers, while I think about schools. And my mind quickly converted the poetic line to, "I forget the names of towns without schools." I do. And I don't think I'm alone in this sentiment.
As I drive the length and width of Michigan's two peninsulas, I pass through many towns where school buildings have been converted to other uses or, more often, sit idle, surrounded by under-used commercial areas and vacant housing. I tend to forget the names of those towns.
Schools have been the anchor to, and given identity to, small towns throughout Michigan, and to the neighborhoods of larger towns. As schools have consolidated during the past two generations, many of the towns that lost their schools have also lost their identity and much of their vitality. The school consolidation movement that stripped towns and neighborhoods of their "brand" was supposed to improve access to broader and deeper curriculum choices for students and reduce the financial costs of delivering world-class education to local classrooms.
That's admirable. But of course, that thinking preceded the Internet which now allows students attending schools of any size in any place to receive any subject available in any other place in our state, nation or the world, and to do so without students being bused hither and yon and at much lower overhead compared to past delivery systems.
If we want to rejuvenate our state, returning schools to the center of small towns and neighborhoods will be central to our strategy. Both the technology and the teaching are available to do so in every corner of our state. It's the money spent on transporting children that's wasted; not the money on teaching those children in neighborhood facilities.