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I CAN SEE A HOUSE FROM HERE generally, in general, and the general (9-13)
Lately the days start and end the same, awkwardly yawning through a feeding. Curren will Hoover down about 75% of any bottle put in front of him before zonking out into an odd semi-awake place where his belly is full of formula and air bubbles, and all he can do is drunkenly grin at his own predicament. It's cute as all hell, but there is always an ounce or so left to go, and getting that last drop of nourishment down has proven to be time consuming and frustrating. He continues to grow… He laughs uncontrollably if you chew with your mouth open in front of him.
So, I do that a lot.
Stranger still was my month or so of unemployment, mostly spent in front of a television set. Although time off and a vacation of sorts were nice changes and diversions, I had WAAAY too much time to think about things, and after a while I began to get in a mental rut over things. This was compounded even further by the odd happenstance of finding out I had finally found a new (and better) job, but would have to wait several weeks before I could start working (earning a paycheck/buying groceries/paying rent). --something about having to start new hires on the beginning of a new pay cycle.. but it's hard to argue when you haven't gotten anything remotely close to a nibble on the hundreds of resumes you've sent out, so I resigned myself to the hunt for temp work, the promise of unemployment compensation funded grocery runs, and a continuation of my addiction to old Hawaii Five-O reruns.
One day I would write, the next I would slave over fantasy football info, one day I would work out or jog --- resolving to make it a three day a week habit, then finding myself the next afternoon with a crying baby on my arm and Days of Our Lives on the teevee, exercise the farthest thing from my mind. The rains came soon after to aid in my procrastination, monsoon conditions flooding over most low lying areas of Jacksonville, including (but not restricted to) the interior of my car. It only makes sense now that the blue Neon is paid off that it should end up with a foot of water on the floorboards… the car smells like an old sock, and the backseat cushions are soggy - and after that last payment it's mine, all mine. And then, the job started. It's a fairly big corporation, but not like the one I used to reside at. Big Blue in the Big Bend was, in comparison, old skool. Homey, boxy, sales driven, kickback oriented type of stuff. This new gig is something different all together.
I don't want to sound like a corporate bumpkin here, but I've never seen anything like this place.
First off, the building, offices, attitudes, and a huge chunk of the employee handbook is built around the idea of immenities. Maybe I've been working in the trenches too long, but I am not used to the idea of so many perks at work. In-house restaurant, discounts at local merchants, nearly nonexistent dress code regulations (yess! Finally!) - I know I am falling for the big yuppie trap here, but a masseuse on-site!?! And the people are all so nice, and it doesn't feel like that smarmy "sure I'm your friend" feeling I have gotten in so many other places. I'm sure there's an underbelly here, because there always is, but it's not like before where making friends instantly meant creating enemies. This is a nice, intelligent, personality driven group of people my age ! It makes me wonder how I ever survived before. At the school, I was hired by a guy about my age, maybe a smidge older than me. We clicked. His idealism, enthusiasm, and desire to prove himself to whomever had told him he wasn't worth a damn matched something in me. We had our differences, to be sure - he liked the politics, he was good at the game. He liked corporate money, but he also had three kids, and you can't fault him for chasing the big paycheck. He did some good things at the school when he took over, but like me he cut some corners in the path to getting certain victories. And when it was all said and done, the place weighed him down - took away the things that made him believe. Once he was out of the classroom and lost that connection with the students, it was over. Within a year, he went back to teaching, and back to the navy. After time to think about it, it seems to me that he realized where he didn't want to be, and yet was still trying to prove something to somebody. I miss him. It's odd to type that. But I miss Juan Carrasco. He and I fought on things, and we disagreed constantly, but I think we came from the same place.. high expectations, sometimes not enough drive, or confidence in ourselves… The real problem was that in his place appeared a series of older managers with older sensibilities, and older ideals. I'm not knocking age here, but what I was left with when Juan abandoned ACT were two managers who were "glad to be there," and not willing to do anything that might get them moved from where they were. Juan and I (at least in spirit) wanted to make things work, shake shit up, and start a revolution. These people wanted to keep the peace, and try not to be noticed by anyone around them. Constantly when I was having shouting matches in the "new directors" office I would say to them --- "this is WRONG, it's unrealistic, and it won't work in our REAL classrooms." And she would get that smug look on her face and say,
"You don't know how much I agree with you, but it would be a fight to get things changed. Maybe 20 years ago I would be up for that fight, but now I see things differently…"
It was a hideous display. People accepting, nay welcoming their own being put out to pasture just because it took so long just to be directed to a nice patch of grass. Translation: After all my ass-kissing, I think I deserve some recognition, and I'm not going to let something as trivial as 'the right thing to do' get in my way. I'm sorry, but do you know what happens to people like those? They are led willingly through steel hallways onto a killing floor where they smile and don't complain while the bolt gun is being aimed at their foreheads….
And
then I look across the world, and there standing
out in the cold is... Bobby
Knight. Bobby Knight. "The General." Until last weekend, he was the heralded men's basketball coach at Indiana University. Bobby Knight. Major league asshole. And it's not like this is some surprise - Bobby Knight is one of America's most famous assholes, and he's been a famous major league asshole for a long, long, time. He's said things I have hated him for. He's done things that I have criticized him for. In short, he's an old world bastard who forced his kids to win for fear that he would beat the shit out of them if they didn't. He had to go. If Woody Hayes had to go, Knight had to go. If Don Shula had to go, if Sam Wyche had to go, if P.J. Carlissimo had to go, if Buddy Ryan had to go, if Pat Burns had to go, then Bobby Knight had to go. You can't be Lombardi. Not anymore.
The simple fact of sports (business/life/whatever) is that back in the days of Lombardi or Paul Brown and Bear Bryant and whatever, athletes weren't that good. You had an Isaiah Thomas, Joe Namath, or Paul Horning here and there, but for the most part you had scrubs. Eager no-talent chumps who were in a career field that wasn't about money and wasn't about fame. You had runts and scrappers, coaches son's and physical specimens. Hell, I believe that some parents back in the day sent their kids to monsters like Knight just so that something good could be made out of their children. Standards were different back then. People believed that there was a need for hard, painful discipline, and that some sort of hardship developed the toughness you would need in the outside world. And I think in some ways that thinking still holds, but only in the rose colored vision of retrospect. Example: My best boss ever, the guy who got me to do things I might never would have considered myself capable of (like going back to college after dropping out) was a complete asshole the second we punched the clock -- and he rarely let up. I learned some hard lessons, yet know that I can look back on it I think it was probably good for me in some twisted way. At the same time though, I can't imagine sending my child to be mentored by some violent egotistical megalomaniac. If my child has some sort of talent, I want that talent to be nurtured, developed, and commended for what it is. Bobby Knight simply couldn't provide my boy with those things, and even if I think a little tough love would be good for him, I can't see sending him there when there are good coaches all over the place who get the same if not better results from positive reinforcement and support... But what you have to understand is that the athletes of that day and age were largely dumb, slow, and fat. It took a maniac to put the fear of god into them and make them champions. It took a drill sergeant to get them all on the same page. It required a hand around the neck every time you screwed up a half court press to make some corn fed free-throw shooter understand how defense works. The coach knew how the game worked - the athlete… didn't.
and I can hear Fred Andrews yelling at me now, "I don't pay you to think, kid."
But like all things, that changed.
Soon all the players, even the bad ones, were athletes. Soon it got to where any fancy scheme could be beat with speed, and any fast team could be beat with tenacious physical defense, and no matter what play you thought you were calling, the ball was really going in the hoop because the kids today are bigger, faster, and more coordinated than ever before. Some of these dumbasses can't help but score 35 points a game. Alan Iverson is about as smart as an eggplant. I have what I consider to be a very strong intellect. But if Alan and I were to line up and play horse, which one of us do you think would get to "Ho" first, hmmm? So... Bobby Knight had to go. Love him or hate him, the time had come. He simply couldn't survive any longer in today's game. But part of me, that part that wanted a revolution at ACT, that part of me that wanted to be allowed the freedom to do things my way, regardless of who it pissed off in the administration, sympathizes with him. I was told I was too open, and that I didn't follow regulations. I didn't attack my students, or harass my coworkers, but I did fight for the things I believed in, and I wouldn't hesitate to fire back at anyone who challenged my integrity. I remember distinctly one day where Mark Patten said something about the way I was handling a student problem and I marched him into his office, shut the door and cussed his skinny ass out. And Patten probably thought I was inappropriate for doing so, but my belief was that on that issue (among others) Mark was full of crap. You don't give up on a kid just so the paperwork comes out cleaner. You just don't. And if you ever even hint that I don't care about my kids you better just lay down right now, you know what I'm saying? Is that what you get for pouring it all out? Is that what happens when you put so much into your efforts to save the kids that anything that gets in the way becomes an enemy? You get put out on your butt when the championships stop rolling in? Doesn't seem fair. . Perhaps we all need to go sometimes. Perhaps as much good as it did for me to have an overbearing boss demanding more from me than I thought I could give, the same amount of benefit will come out of me pushing my boundaries at that last job farther than they could go. I'm not sure, time will only tell.
Bobby Knight was a great basketball coach, but in the end, he couldn't play the game.
couldn't play the game... |
