The Real Trophy

In fifth grade I received a trophy for "Most Improved Bowler". This little statue sits on my desk today holding down a stack of magazines or a random assortment of papers I've yet to file.

I like this bit of my past because it continually reminds me that 1) I wasn't a great bowler in 5th grade and 2) I was probably a really nice kid and my teachers wanted me to feel good and have high self-esteem.

If you've ever talked with me about bowling, you'll know that I know the name of at least one professional bowler and that I earned a B- in bowling at Trinity University.

It keep it also to remind myself how rewards function and not to get swept up in those things that take my eyes off the real prize - growing up and functioning as a responsible, respectful, active citizen who strives to make the world a better, kinder place.

During the past week in the Middle Division, parents and administrators met to discuss issues concerning boys' and girls' journeys through adolescence. We covered internet safety, cyberbullying, cultivation of interests/passions, choice making, how to remain calm when the roller coaster of the teenage years is running full tilt, and the importance of boredom.

Among other things that arose from these conversations was reaching consensus that parenting isn't easy and that working and talking together makes it better for all.

I referenced Dan Pink's new book: Drive, Wendy Mogel's book: The Blessings of a Skinned Knee, and of course, Carol Dweck's work regarding Mindsets because these writers understand how our over-connected, instantly gratified and overprotected community functions and most importantly what we can and should do to address it in our schools, in our businesses and at home.

I share their core beliefs that each of our students has the intrinsic desire to pursue interests and passions for the sake of pursuing them; extrinsic motivators (think pizza for books) are poor tools to engage us in the world and if we truly respect our children as individuals, we will strive to let them own their failures and successes.

The real trophy isn't a shiny statue, it's the joy and disappointment of missed spares, gutter balls, an occasional strike, the sounds of pins scattering on polished wood, and those shoes that never quite slide the way I want them to.