Undue Hardship
January 20, 2017
When appeals are made to the Executive Committee of the Michigan High School Athletic Association to advance the eligibility of a student for school sports, the argument is often made that application of the rule creates a hardship for a student who is not permitted to participate in competitive school sports.
Across the country when issues like these move beyond the appeals processes of state high school associations to courts of law, judges will sometimes opine that the student will suffer an undue hardship if he or she cannot play for a season, school year or career.
Given what is happening in our world, it always strikes me as absurd that anyone would allege or any court of law would rule that not being able to participate immediately or even at all in school sports is an undue hardship. There is hardship in the world, but sitting out school sports shouldn't appear on a list of hundreds of hardships being endured around the globe.
Consider, as I do regularly in one of my chief activities apart from my daily occupation, the hardships that are being endured by those who are fleeing a growing list of war-torn countries, by those who have been confined to refugee camps for many years, even by those who are fortunate enough to be resettled from those camps to far-away countries with different languages and customs.
These are real hardships that should embarrass those who suggest that sitting out school sports for a single contest or an entire career is a hardship. And the heroes are not those who challenge athletic eligibility rules but those who are being resettled in new nations, accepting work that is beneath their skills and experiences, and raising families who want nothing more than for their families to live in peace and security.
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.