The Waiver Process

August 21, 2015

Last school year, over the course of 12 meetings, the MHSAA Executive Committee received 467 requests from member schools to waive either a minimum standard for student eligibility or a maximum limitation on competition. Three hundred sixty-two of these requests for waiver were approved. That’s 78 percent.

This was a typical year – neither a record high nor record low in the number of requests, or of waivers approved.

Under the MHSAA Constitution, to at least some degree, every Handbook regulation may be waived by the Executive Committee. However, it is an abuse of authority if there is not  a compelling reason for the waiver – that is, a clear case where the rule works an undue hardship (not just any hardship) on a student or school, or the rule fails to perform its intended purpose in the particular and unique circumstances documented.

There are times when school administrators will disagree with an Executive Committee determination, and more times when parents will disagree – and sometimes the difference of opinion leads to unjustified attacks on the MHSAA or individuals. This is unfortunate, but inevitable when critics see their situation alone and not in the context of past and future precedent.

Nevertheless, in recent years, fewer than one in 400 waiver requests that is not approved has been appealed to the full MHSAA Representative Council. I believe this reflects not only that the Executive Committee has been getting the decisions right, but also that those who are making the requests have felt well heard and served.

We work hard to create that atmosphere, even in the presence of emotional, invested parents who are advocating for their children. From a real live receptionist who greets every telephone caller, to our associate director who helps administrators prepare each request to the Executive Committee, we strive to present every request for waiver in its best factual light and every rule involved in its complete educational and historical context.

Baloney

January 27, 2015

When I was in high school and college I worked a different job each summer, usually looking for hard labor that would help prepare my body for the next football season, and each time confirming that it would not be my choice for lifetime employment. One summer I worked at a lumber yard and paper mill complex along the banks of the Wisconsin River.
Every day I ate lunch with the men who had made this their life’s work; and I grew in ways both positive and negative as I listened to their conversations and tales. We all brought our own lunch pails.
One day, one of the more veteran employees opened his lunchbox and flew into a rage. “I can’t believe it,” he exclaimed. “Baloney again! I hate baloney.”
Trying to calm him down, another worker said, “If you hate baloney so much, just ask your wife to make you something else.”
To which the complainer replied, “That won’t work. I make my own lunches,” which resulted in an uproar of laughter from the rest of us.
I thought of this incident recently as I was preparing to meet with constituents about the rules they most love to hate: policies relating to coach and player contact out of season. Those are our most criticized rules.
But it occurs to me, if we don’t like the sandwich we’re eating – out-of-season coaching rules – we should remember: we made them ourselves, and we can change them. In fact, no one is in a better position to do so than we are. And no one has a greater duty to do so than we have, if we really are in need of a new recipe.