It's Mr. Rogers' Fault

As I wrote my last post about the dread I feel about moving from T-ball to Coach Pitch to whatever more competitive league follows, I was thinking about a couple of articles recently published in the Wall Street Journal. Jeffrey Zaslow wrote a column titled "Blame It on Mr. Rogers" in which he posits that the culture of entitlement often seen in our children might perhaps be the result of Mr. Rogers' emphasis on the idea that "You are special." (If you find this idea appalling and want to give Mr. Zaslow a piece of your mind, you will apparently have to wait in line. A long one.) In Thursday's Journal, he adds other reasons we may face a sea of entitled young people: indulgent parenting, a consumer culture, citing MTV show "My Super Sweet 16" and Burger King's promise that you can "Have it Your Way," and the self-esteem movement.

So would Mr. Zaslow add LCAA T-ball to his list? I mean, is this not creating children who believe you should and will get a trophy for every sport you play for the rest of your life? That everyone should have equal opportunity to bat and play every position? Hasn't it been proven that a sense of competition is healthy and helps children face adversity when they grow up? Doesn't it promote teamwork? Perhaps moving over to a more competitive league isn't that bad of a thing.

I recognize that this means I am speaking out of both sides of my mouth, but it's my blog, and besides, I can say whatever I want to say - I am entitled!

The Bittersweet Finale

Last night was Luke's final T-ball game. I have mentioned that I was the accidental coach, but have loved the opportunity and even told the original coach that I would coach "Coach Pitch" with him next year if he wanted. He said he would, but only if I would be the head coach from the beginning.

The sweet part of the finale was that we had a good season. I think we learned some things about baseball and I know we had fun. (I say we because I think the players did and I KNOW I did.) We tried to share the wealth and let everyone play every position, even on the days when I would have much rather had Luke or Teigan on the mound. I think the kids came away with a sense of respect for the coaches and the parents commented several times on the good job we had done. I believe many of the things I wanted to accomplish and liked about coaching that I mentioned here came to pass. It was a good season.

The bitter part of the finale was two-fold. First, is the realization that next year is "Coach Pitch" and then who knows what from there. LCAA offers the coach pitch and we will most likely play that, so many of the good aspects will still be in place, but it is a vivid reminder to me that Luke is getting older. With that also comes the knowledge that if he wants to continue to play, he will soon have to move to a competitive league. This tension for me was highlighted on our way to the after-season party when Luke says: "Dad, I think I am going to play baseball all my life like you did soccer. I want to see all of your trophies when we get home." I told him that I thought he probably already had more trophies than I had received my entire life. "You mean you didn't get a trophy every year you played like at LCAA?" Well, no, actually, I didn't. In fact, most leagues give trophies only to the best teams and they keep score and everyone doesn't get to bat every game and the good guys get to play... If it is time for that transition, it is time, but I sure have enjoyed getting to answer the end of game question with, "Well, everyone won. You had fun, didn't you?"

The second part of the bitter is more personal. I realize that T-ball is a small part of the lives of these kids and do not pretend that I made any difference in their lives besides help create/sustain an environment where they could have fun, be encouraged, and enjoy getting to play, even when they may not have been very skilled at playing. There was, however, a part of me that was depressed last night as I compared what I do for a living to what I did as a volunteer and accidental coach. I felt much better about 10 1-hour games and a couple of practices than many of my days at the office. Cognitively, I recognize that my job as a fund raiser makes a difference in the lives of college students. (It allows them to get a quality education in a Christian environment ... doesn't every letter I write say this?) I know changing lives is something more than just a catchy slogan on our business cards. I do wonder, however, how effective I really am at changing lives. On a larger scale, I wonder how successful the university as a whole is at changing lives?

I believe lives are changed in very organic ways. I say organic to mean natural, simple, almost grassroots kinds of ways. It is the organic nature of change that has caused many "postmodern" thinking individuals to turn from church and seek a glimpse of the sacred in more relationship oriented ways. God they like, it's the church they can't stand, or so the saying goes.

It is the reason community is so important, because it is there that relationships can develop that speak to and hear directly the ills, hurts, successes, and joys of our lives. When these times are shared, they can be redeemed and shown to be Godly, sacred moments. I would venture to say freshman English doesn't make a big difference to students, but a freshman English professor can propel a student to a life of greatness. The ability to parse a sentence or understand the imagery of Hawthorne may not change the world, but a student shown God active and alive in the lives of His people can turn the world upside down. Last night, I left wondering if an accidental coach may have done more for the Kingdom than all of the dollars I raised the last five weeks.

I close with a quote from a large donor to a hospital in the mid-west (I don't have the reference on hand or I would cite it) who funded an entire children's hospital:

"I have been successful. Now it's time to be significant."

I will never let my kids...

Tonight we are all sitting around celebrating the 4th of July at a house out in the country. I bring the location up only because it provided opportunity for one of the Bailey's nephews to bring his soft air gun. This is sort of like a BB gun, but it shoots little plastic pellets and apparently, does not shoot as hard as a BB gun. Perhaps it also does not put an eye out, I didn't check to see.

This was Luke's first time around a gun that shoots something besides pretend things and watching him wander around with the nephew asking to shoot it made me a little nervous. OK, it made me a lot nervous. As much as anything, I wanted him to be safe and I knew he had no training on responsible handling of guns. (I kept thinking back: OK, what would Uncle Arthur do in this situation?)

A couple of us began discussing the BB gun wars we had as children (Ooops, was that publish I just hit?), which led to discussions about bottle rocket wars (Yep, I hit publish, all right. Maybe I can quickly change the blog to non-parent invitation only!). The topic came up in almost a bragging sort of way ... "Soft air gun? Why, when I was your age, we used to get out the 30-06 and play army men with it. Well, that is, when we couldn't find the hand grenades." As I think back, however, I think "Why would anyone in their right mind think that was a fun thing to do?" To think I participated in such foolish behavior! (At the risk of exposing you to public ridicule on the vastness of the world wide web, Mom and Dad, what in the world were you thinking?!) Why, I'll never let my kid...

I can almost guarantee, however, that in 30 years, Luke will be discussing all of the things he did that he hopes his son never finds out about.

Shooting a BB gun may seem like such a benign topic, but it is in many ways just a precursor to so many other choices that Luke and Grace will be faced with as they grow older. It highlights the tension between wanting my children to be normal and discover the things they enjoy doing (Like hunting, which was such a part of my Labor Days growing up, but I cannot even imagine taking Luke out to do.) and the incredible pull to lock them up and make sure nothing happens to them or they are not faced with challenges.

Tonight on the way home Luke wanted to know what a step-brother was. I don't want to have to tell him that. I realize he will meet hundreds of children in his lifetime who are step-somethings or other, but I really don't want to have to explain the two ways you can get a step brother. He's just a kid. I want everybody to come from nuclear families and for guns to be made of pointing fingers and odd shaped sandwiches. I want him to believe the world is a perfect place, even though it isn't. I won't lie to him about it, but I sure wish he wasn't faced with the fact that the world we live in is steeped in sin. That's not surprising -- I wish I didn't have to see the face of sin as it rears it's ugly head day in and day out in my own life, why would I want anyone else to see it too?

I am grateful I still have such a large amount of influence on him and pray earnestly that I do a good job showing both of my children the grace of God and His love for them. I pray that I show them more than just the right things to do or not to do, but will be able to show them how to determine which is which and help them find the strength to follow through on the right choice. Even more importantly, I pray that God protects Luke, Grace, Jana and me both individually and as a family.