The title of an article in the morning’s New York Times. Anna Watts opines:
“You don’t need a flashy new bike or fancy gear to get a solid cycling workout. The most important thing is that your bike fits your body and you enjoy being on it.”
One wonders, does Watts regularly spout heretical things or is this a one-off?
THIS is the example to use when teaching alliteration in fourth or fifth grade.
Verne Lundquist, 83 year old sportscaster extraordinaire, who just called his last Masters, exited at the top of his game. I forget which player it was that was getting chewed up by the Augusta, Georgia winds and glassy greens. Not holding back, Lundquist said, “The wheels aren’t just falling off, the rims are too.”
Postscript: More alliteration. This morning, as the trial gets underway, Trump is said to have scoffed, smirked, and slept.
“The ‘Golden Bachelor’ reality TV couple, who wed on national television after a romance that captivated viewers with the possibility of finding love late in life, announced on Friday they are divorcing just three months into their marriage.”
I was not among the viewers, let alone the “captivated” viewers, but this does make me wonder what else might not be real on t.v.
Or anyone lacking superhuman interpersonal skills.
Jessica Winters’s story in The NewYorker titled ” The Meltdown of a Middle School in a Liberal Town” (April 3, 2024) left me wondering how a school district starts over. It’s a case study of things completely falling apart in an Amherst, Massachusetts public middle school. It features angry parents, school personnel ignoring the separation of church and state, educators wholly unprepared to work with trans students, cultural conflicts of all sorts, and many other layers of public school dysfunction.
Today there’s a similarly harrowing story in The New York Times, titled, “A Principal Confronted a Teenage Girl. Now He’s Facing Prison Time.”
The heart of the matter:
“For educators everywhere, the criminal prosecution of Mr. Sanchez for an action that schools typically handle using their own disciplinary codes opens up new levels of potential risk. Fights are part of high school life. If a school official can be not just disciplined but also jailed for intervening to break up or prevent a fight, what are teachers supposed to do?
In an interview, Mr. Sanchez mentioned a fight last year in which a teacher told the students to stop but did not physically separate them. ‘And the parent was just so upset when they saw the video, like, ‘Why isn’t this person stopping it?’’ he said. ‘And to be honest, I was a little upset, too. I didn’t say that to the parent, but I did say, ‘Well, because sometimes people are worried about liability.’”
Recently, I did a writing workshop with fifteen K-12 teachers who are seeking school principal certification. More specifically, they were applying for grants that provide them substitutes for their classrooms so they can get the required hours interning as administrators-to-be.
Impressive group, but after reflecting on these stories, I can’t help but wonder if they know what they’re committing to. The numerous simultaneous challenges they will soon face. The public’s anger and disregard for one another. The tenuousness of the public commons. The toll it will take on them and their families.
My guess is not entirely, because if they did, they’d probably choose professional paths where mere mortals stand much better odds of succeeding.
Good.
The annual income it takes to own a home.
Breuer teaches entrepreneurship at a Texas high school and coaches sophomore Elizabeth Leachman, the most talented female high school runner in the country. And it’s not particularly close.
The whole Leachman story is so countercultural, meaning tremendously upbeat. Leachman seems unusually grounded for her age in part because her parents know Breuer has their daughter’s long-term interest at heart.
Meaning Breuer is not overdoing Leachman’s training like too many other coaches would.
From Runner’s World:
“The coach and the runner sometimes challenge each other. Leachman wants to do more. Breuer wants her to stay healthy and develop over time. ‘I’m always pulling her back,’ Breuer said. ‘Err on the side of caution.'”
Also of note in this day and age, you won’t find Leachman on Instagram.
“’I think if it was fully up to me, I probably would have it,’ Leachman said. ‘But my parents don’t want me to, and I’m okay with it. I haven’t really fought it.'”
Breuer again:
“’We talk a lot about external expectations, and just because you’re good at running doesn’t mean that it’s everything that defines you,’ Breuer said. ‘That’s what’s really hard, I think, for a 16-year-old to remember sometimes when the spotlight is on. I try to remove that pressure as much as possible and remind her that this is supposed to be fun.'”
This story makes me think maybe the world is not going to hell in a handbasket after all. Just outside of view, there’s excellent parenting going on coupled with thoughtful/caring coaching; resulting in a happy, healthy, and scary quick young athlete.
As in a 9:44 two mile. . . 5:03, 4:41. And a 15:25 5k.
The Coach of the Year one more time:
“’She has a really good perspective. Her parents have done a super job.’ And also, I say, ‘I want you to be an amazing college runner, I want you to be an amazing professional runner, if that’s what you want to do. We don’t want you to peak in high school. That’s not the goal.’”
Postscript—hard not to root for this dude.
Karen Kreider Yoder’s story perfectly captures 2024.
“It was a June afternoon in the Rockies just after I retired when we agreed that we must be turning into ghosts.
We had been cycling in the mountains since breaking camp before dawn, and we decided to splurge on a private room in a hostel. We checked in and headed through to the bike-storage area, walking our rig by young hostelers congregated in the common spaces.
We must have been a sight: two bedraggled 60-somethings pushing a tandem bicycle laden like a pack mule.
Except no one seemed to see us.
We crossed the living room, where 20-something hikers with ruddy faces studied their computer screens. No one looked up. We inched through the kitchen, where others were sautéing onions for a group meal. ‘Excuse us. Sorry to interrupt,’ one of us said as we squeezed through. ‘That sure smells good.’
They turned a bit, giving us space. But not a word. Not a ‘How’s it going?’ nor ‘Where’d you come from?’ nor ‘Cool rig.’ Nor eye contact.”
Pressing Pause 