Sweating the Small Stuff - #1
May 29, 2018
I would prefer that the 51 organizations which make up the membership of the National Federation of State High School Associations would not waste another breath talking about the NFHS conducting national athletic events. But just about as frequently as U.S. presidential elections, the topic returns to NFHS meeting agendas.
About a third of NFHS member associations are somewhat in favor of national events, another third are strongly opposed, and a final third won’t offer an opinion until they are provided more details of what a national event would look like.
Most of this undecided group will reject anything that is in the nature of a national high school championship ... anything that would follow or extend seasons and diminish their own state high school championships. Most of this undecided group will reject anything involving team sports.
That has led to talk of a summertime track & field invitational event. Like dozens of other such events available to individual students without any time or expense for their schools.
Even then, there would be hours of debate about who would be invited and how, what specific track & field events would be contested, as well as when and where the event would be held. And who would pay. And what would be the fate of state associations’ existing policies which limit when, where and how much their member schools’ students may compete.
Even if the planners choose a path of least resistance for a national event, the devil will be found in the details.
While many will be busy sweating the small stuff, this association will focus on a more fundamental question: “How could the NFHS ever presume to conduct events that would cause some of its member high school associations’ schools and students and coaches to violate existing rules of their state associations?”
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.