Author: armstrong.wou@gmail.com

I was talking with my son’s football coach Wednesday evening.  We got on the topic of bench press and muscle size.  Coach and I have opposite challenges.  He set a bench press record for his football team in college and is a guy who just explodes with size when he lifts weights (I hate him!).  I, on the other hand, have always struggled to add muscle mass and lift weights that are rather unimpressive to all but the non-exerciser.  I have to work hard to look like a “former athlete”.  I have come to terms with this.

Looking back, I can recall so many cycles of letting weight supersede technique—all for the perception of “getting stronger”.  Over time I learned (and relearned) form matters most.  As a teenager, starting out with Nautilus equipment (yes, I am that old), I faced repeated correction on the Hip-and-Back from Biz Stark, the owner of Steel City Nautilus in Pittsburgh back in the late ‘70s.  One day, he finally said, “Jeff, my business depends on results.  If you are not going to do the machine correctly, I am happy to refund your money and send you on your way.” (Or something to that effect.)  He clearly understood me, because that was all I needed.  I got to where, later as an exercise trainer, with my back to someone on the machine, I could recognize that someone was doing the machine incorrectly only from the sound of the machine.  (I was better off than my friend, Danny.  Biz corrected his form on the Hip-and-Back by marking his leg with a black Sharpie pen every time his did a rep incorrectly!)

As a long, tall lifter, I lack the leverage and proportions for lifting the big heavy stuff.  One rep for me is two for some powerlifters.  This is important to remember.

Work is force times distance.  So, the lazy thing to do is to shorten the range of motion.  I was always big on range of motion, which is easier on a machine where leverage is often equalized by the fixed moment arm—i.e., height is less of a factor.  It wasn’t until I made the shift to free-weights (now entirely free-weights) that the laziness set in.

Bench is bench—there is not much one can do to shorten the range of motion to make it easier (other than lifting the butt so high off the bench or not bringing the bar all the way down).  Squats, on the other hand, are a bit easier to slip into a lazy technique.  Indeed, many exercise professionals did—and still—encourage partial squats.  I even bought into it (a little) for a while.  I was never one to believe that it was bad for the knees to squat full range-of-motion.  Nevertheless, I convinced myself that going to “90-degrees” (quotations marks because 90-degrees was probably more like 85- or 80-degrees or worse) was okay because I am tall.  Thus, I would get “stronger” until my back would start hurting.  Then, I convinced myself that my leverage was my limiting factor.

A few years ago, a student hit me with a brick.  (Figuratively, of course.  Throwing physical bricks at anyone is frowned upon.)  I mentioned “deep squats”.  He asked for clarification.  I described what I meant, and he responded, “Oh.  We just call those ‘squats’.”  When I was in high school, we would have called that a “burn”.  He was absolutely correct, and he changed my attitude.  I became determined to do only full squats.

To correct my technique, I had to lower my weights significantly and improve the mobility in my hips and ankles.  I went embarrassingly low in the bar weight and began to work my way back up.  I am actually finding that my technique has improved over time, as well.  Back pain?  I am also finding that when I do have back pain (from sitting too much at a computer all day or extensive yard work), squatting actually helps.  I lift at home, so I don’t really have to be embarrassed by how “little” I lift (which really isn’t that little for the average 54-year-old—but, I don’t want to be “average”).  The key is: technique first; weight progression second.

Defining full range-of-motion is tricky.  One thing I figured out is that the so-called “ass-to-grass” is not possible for everyone.  Even in an unweighted squat, my butt doesn’t come near the floor.  My limb proportions just don’t permit it.  One can improve joint mobility (to a point), but one cannot change bone lengths.  So, what is “full range-of-motion”?

Full range-of-motion is individualized.  The form will not be the same for everyone.  One finds his or her full squat depth by squatting to full depth.  Simply drop down into a “comfortable” squatting position.  Foot position, etc. will line up naturally.  Restrictions in ankle and hip mobility can be improved with stretching.

The same goes for all weight-training exercises (well, all exercise, for that matter).  Technique over show.  You can load all the weight you want, but, if you don’t move it, no one is impressed.  Focus on form and progress as required.  Improvement will come—and continue—when you do it right.

I have been squatting “properly” for several years.  My legs are by no means impressive (still quite chicken-like), but improving slowly.  I am one of those “low responders”.  Unlike my son’s coach, my muscle gets stronger but to a lesser degree—and less (much less) hypertrophy.  High responders, perhaps, are more rare than low responders.  Most will respond “normally”.  So, if you are worried about getting “bulky muscles”, don’t.  Most of us aren’t willing to work that hard.  Even those “high responders” work hard for their gains.  They just don’t need to work as hard for “modest” gains.  Me?  I’ll take the gains I am getting.

Be your best today; be better tomorrow!

Carpe momento!

I saw statistics on income-based enrollments at public universities in Michigan.  A former colleague referred to Eastern Michigan University as a “school of opportunity”.  Admittedly, it was a phrase I had not seen before, but immediately liked.  It is an appropriate description of schools like EMU, where less than one-percent of the students come from households making more than $630K and 43% of the students are from households making less than $65K.  Statistically, Western Oregon University, where I currently teach, is not much different.  Indeed, there are numerous such schools, and, frankly, schools with students in better economic circumstances are no less schools of “opportunity”.  It is my opinion that all institutions of education are “schools of opportunity”.  For some young people (and older, so-called “non-traditional”, students), it might just be easier than for others.

A phrase with which I am more familiar is “first-generation college student”.  Certainly, it is accurate, but it sometimes gets used with a bit of a (unintentional) negative undertone.  It is perceived by some that students who come from families in which no one has a college degree (i.e., “first-generation college students”) are somehow disadvantaged.  True, some are.  Many students, today, have to work and sacrifice more for a college education.  Students are graduating with more debt than ever before.  Nevertheless, they are every bit as capable as any other student.  If students are perceived as “less capable”, they will be treated as such.  To me, this is unfair.

If a student—any student—is treated as less than capable, he or she will slip to the level of expectation.  Of course, students may need help navigating college life, but the assumption that they can’t manage without lowing the bar is unwarranted.

I had a student once complain that the math I was asking them to do was “hard”.  For one thing, it was a level of math of which all college students should be capable.  I explained this to the students.  A comment was made that the math might not be hard for me, but I “need to bring it down to (the students’) level”.  You might be able to guess my response.  I told the student: “No, my job is to elevate you to the level you need to perform in the workplace.”

As educators, we cannot consider ourselves at a “school of opportunity” if we don’t maintain high standards and expectations for the students.  Education is opportunity.  A diploma is worthless, if it does not bring with it the opportunity for something better.

A “school of opportunity” teaches students the skills needed not only for the students’ future, but also for the future of all society.  Train a student to be employed, you prepare them to get a job.  Train a student to think, you prepare them to create jobs.  This might demand more of educators, but it is effort well-spent.

As the school year gets underway, I commend teachers.  I also encourage teachers to elevate their standards and expectations.  And students?  Expect to be challenge.  Demand to be challenged.  Seek opportunity.

Be your best today; be better tomorrow.

Carpe momento!

I know that I can be somewhat alone with this among professionals in the fitness industry, but I have my issues with the phrase, “functional fitness.  It is my humble opinion that all training is functional (or should be).  Now, of course, there may be some reason for adding a functional component to one’s training—specifically, I think of firefighters, police, and military personal.  A big issue with doing so is opportunity cost.  For such “athletes” (and I think there is more than a bit of an athletic component that goes into such work—the phrase “tactical athlete” is often used), traditional exercise training—e.g., squatting until the legs feel like Jello—is often not ideal.  Tactical athletes, after all, can be deployed and must be ready to “go” at a moment’s notice.  For these athletes, training the energy systems for fast recovery and managing MRV (“maximal recoverable volume”) are crucial.  For most of us….

I was inspired to write this after seeing an advertisement for a treadmill that had the added feature of loadable weights for farmer carries.  I assume the idea is to be able to train to carry things for very long distances??  Now, one of my initial responses was: dumbbells.  Why not just carry dumbbells on the treadmill—if this exercise is so necessary.  (A friend noted that if the weight got too heavy one could just “let go”—point taken.)  Another thought was back to walking a good half-mile uphill (it was Pittsburgh, after all) with groceries with my mom as a kid—“functional training”.  Why must we drive to the gym (and, let’s face it, most gym-goers drive to the gym) to walk on a treadmill and/or do things we commonly do (or should be doing)?  This treadmill may have a place—e.g., firehouses and combat units—however, a little bit of innovation is probably warranted.  Of course, I don’t want to crush “some young entrepreneur’s dreams”, and I trust there will be a market for the product, so let’s focus on this idea of “functional training”.

First, if we go to the health-related components of physical fitness—cardiorespiratory, muscle strength, muscle endurance, flexibility, and body composition—the principle of specificity applies and these are covered, quite simply, with the basics: traditional cardio exercise, the ‘basic 5’ (squat, deadlift, bench, overhead press, and rows), and energy system management (i.e., varying repetitions and recovery to specific needs and goals).  Anything else must then apply to motor skill-related physical fitness—speed, power, agility, balance, coordination, and reaction time.  Want to be functional?  Much of this comes with sports conditioning or other specificity-driven exercise.  So, unless your sport or job demands it (and I would argue that, if it does, you are already applying the health-related exercise in doing the job), simulating the sport or labor task as a component of “conditioning” is unnecessary.  In other words, rather than swing a hammer on a truck tire, chop wood.  Rather than walk on a treadmill carrying weights, walk around the neighborhood with weights—or better walk to and from the grocery!

Let’s not over-complicate exercise and life by trying to be too creative.  Up the demands of your activities of daily living and progress your exercise to meet these demands.  “Functional training” should mean to train to improve function, not train by doing things that should be normal functions.

Be your best today; be better tomorrow!

Carpe momento!

Image source: https://images.askmen.com/1080×540/sports/bodybuilding/functional-training-1101897-TwoByOne.jpg

My son started preseason wrestling with his club team on Monday.  It is secondary to football until November, but something he wanted to do.  Of course, as a twelve-year-old, he waited until just hours before practice to try on his wrestling shoes.  We bought them big last season, and I hadn’t given any thought to them not fitting for this preseason.  The “old” shoes are 9-1/2s.  He is now wearing 11s.  Fortunately, I had a pair of size 12s for him to wear the first night.  Amazon will have a new pair to him by his next practice.

Having my “little” boy wear my shoes has, like so many things in the lives of my children, caused me pause.  Of course, I am reflecting on how fast he is growing up and how time is flying by, but, moreover, it has caused me to think about him filling my shoes and my role in who he is becoming.

I have enjoyed reading Season of Life by Jeffrey Marx several times.  Subsequently, I try to read InSideOut Coaching by Joe Ehrmann once a year or so.  Both books chronicle Joe Ehrmann’s philosophy of “building men (and women) for others”.  Like Joe Ehrmann, I prefer to see my success as a parent, teacher, and/or coach as a long-term accomplishment.  In other words, my success (hopefully not failure) as a parent will be seen in my children (and students) years from now in their employment, their relationships, etc. 

So, my son beginning to “fill my shoes” reminds me that my time is short.  The opportunities are now.  If ever carpe momento applies, it is certainly in parenting.

Parenting is not something we can put off until tomorrow.  It is not for us to pass off to another.  Otherwise, we might get caught with shoes that are too small.

I often feel like I am too hard on my kids.  Maybe I have too many rules?  Maybe I need to let them just be kids?  Of course, I come to my senses and realize that they don’t have to like me today.  They have to become good citizens—and that is on me, if they don’t.

There is that time in parenting when we catch ourselves thinking: “I sound just like my father.”  Perhaps, for some, this is really not a good thing.  For me, I think it with some satisfaction—much satisfaction.  I know there were times when I rolled my eyes or moaned like my son after my parents corrected me for something.  Of course, I didn’t appreciate it at the time, but I am who I am because my parents cared more about loving me than me liking them.

I grew into my father’s shoes.  And, hopefully, I have outgrown them—just like I hope my son will outgrow mine.  Now, while it may be literal that I have grown larger than my father—and I suspect my son will literally be bigger than me.  My hope is that there is a figurative generational “outgrowing” that has and will occur.  “Better” is an awkward word to use here.  I am by no means superior to my father, but, I am sure, he would say I have grown (or am growing) into a better man than him.  We are, after all, given what we are given to work with and expected to pass on the lessons to the next generation.  We grow and hope that our children grow more.  We make mistakes, but, if we do our job as parents, we help prevent the next generation from repeating them.  The shoes get passed on.

So, as my son wears my shoes in practice.  I see they are still a little big on him and I have work to do.  I see that he is becoming a man—with or without me.  It is my opportunity—my responsibility—to see that he becomes a man of gentle strength and character.  I certainly welcome the help I am receiving from others—family, coaches, teachers, etc.—but I see my opportunity is fleeting.

Carpe momento!

We are a society that seems to prefer to focus on the negatives.  We ignore the greater good that is happening around us.

We fault Millennials and Generation Xs (and whatever other labels we are giving the youth today), yet forget that they are what the generation before them raised them to be.  Thus, we fault the kids, but fail to credit the parents.  Moreover, we fail to applaud the parents who are doing a difficult job well.  And, friends, there a great number of them who are doing it well.

As a professor, I interact with young people almost daily.  For four years or so, these “kids” are my students.  Upon graduation, they become my peers.  Some even become my friends.  Through social media, I am able to track their progress beyond graduation—when the real success or failure of my teaching can reveal itself.  Honestly, some surprise me.  I have had some real “goofballs” go on to do great things.  I have an impact on the students (and hopefully a positive one), but I am working off of what they bring to college—parents, coaches, friends, relatives, … and past teachers.  I can very quickly register an impression of what these influences were like.

I sometimes meet the parents and friends.  I rarely meet the coaches and teachers.  Because my students will all be leaders and managing behaviors, albeit not necessarily with the title of “coach”, I have them write a “Coaching Philosophy” paper in one of my classes.  In this they write about experiences with good and bad coaches and how these have shaped how they lead to behavioral change.  Not surprisingly, a great number of students will list a parent as an influential coach.  Through this project, I get a glimpse of the influences they have had through their coaches.

I can only infer the influence of teachers—unless the students share.  I, personally, credit many of my teachers in my teaching—e.g., Ms. Romano for Math, Mrs. Moore for English, and many more.  I can usually tell a bit about the experience that students have had in various subjects but their confidence and performance in these.  Truthfully, it bothers me when college students tell me they “can’t do math” or they “aren’t good at math”.  This is usually when I tell them “’Can’t’ never did anything” and something to the effect of “your math teachers failed you.”  After all, I am not expecting them to do high-level math.  I only ask what I know they have the intelligence to comprehend.  Much the same goes for writing.

Ultimately, the greatest influence falls upon the parents.  I get bothered at an institution that prefers the emphasis the number of students who are “first-generation college students”.  I get bothered by this because it is often followed with a lower of expectations.  Granted the first-generation college student might have a bit more of a challenge managing the bureaucracy at a university or college, but it is not an excuse to lessen the challenge.  It has been my experience that first-generation college students can be among the best students—because their parents have instilled in them the drive and the hunger for opportunity.  I fail these parents if I don’t bring out the absolute best in their children.

I can usually tell within a few meetings which students have parents who have given them the skills to succeed.  I am grateful for those who have taught their children the meaning of hard work and the role of failure. 

I am less impressed with the grade a student gets on an exam than with what they do with the graded exam.  If a student gets an A on an exam because the test did not challenge them or the coin fell in their favor, I fail as a teacher.  If a student gets a C (or lower) and does nothing other than look at the score, we both fail.  If, however, a student looks at the red marks (yes, I am one of those teachers who marks in red—so, get over it!) and examines why they missed the question and what they don’t know—and they make the effort to learn what they don’t know, that is success!  In my opinion, tests are not to show me what the students know.  Rather, tests are to show us what the students don’t know—and to correct this.

Such is life.  Such is also the role of the parent.  As parents, we love to see our children succeed.  So, often, we shield them from failure.  (This seems to be worsening in society.)  We must, however, teach our young people to embrace the struggle and pursue growth.

I was inspired by the news of one of my former students receiving a commission as an officer in the United States Marine Corps.  He related a story of his parents making him work to earn the money to buy knife he wanted.  He earned the $50 a few coins at a time, and I sensed the pride of his parents and of the young man as he told of the day his dad took him to but the knife.  I am sure this is one of many lesson he learned from his parents—who deserve some applause today.  He is a story similar to many of my students.  In reading his, I was caused to pause and reflect on the many students I have had over more than 20 years and what they are doing today.  The ones who have learned the value of the struggle are the cream that have risen to the top.  I am proud of them and grateful for the parents and the influences in their lives.

I am hard on my own children.  Sometimes (comparing myself to others) I question if I am too hard, but then I get a glimpse of the kinds of people into whom my children are growing.  I am also grateful for the coaches who have had a positive influence on my children.  I am not so likely to give a break to my children’s teachers.  I want them to push my kids and elevate the expectations.  I expect much of them, but I am grateful for them (certainly some more than others).  I can, however, only have high expectations for coaches and teachers if I have higher expectations for myself as a parent.  It is harder for teachers and coaches when parents don’t parent well.  So, parents, step up your game!

Be your best today; be better tomorrow!

Carpe momento!

High-intensity interval training is all the rage in fitness at the moment, but should you be doing it?  While there are benefits, HIIT is certainly not the holy grail that it is being presented as.  It is not for everyone—and, that’s O.K.

First off, let’s be clear, HIIT interval training is nothing new.  It has been around for as long as exercisers have been doing “intervals”.  By definition, HIIT is a form of interval training, an exercise strategy alternating short periods of intense anaerobic exercise with less-intense recovery periods. HIIT sessions can be quite short, usually last from 10–30 minutes.  Despite the brevity, these are purported to improved aerobic capacity, improve glucose metabolism, and improved fat burning.  Note that the only thing that distinguishes HIIT from other types of interval training is the intensity.  Protocols vary, but high-intensity is pretty much anything over 85% of maximum (VO2max, heart rate max, etc.).  Because the intensities are so high, they cannot be performed for very long (usually 20-seconds to one-minute intervals).

If you are going to a gym and doing cardio, you may have heard the name “Tabata”.  Tabata has erroneously become almost synonymous with HIIT.  The “Tabata Method” is based on a 1996 study by Izumi Tabata et al. that initially involved Olympic speed skaters.  The study used 20 seconds of ultra-intense exercise (at an intensity of about 170% of VO2max) followed by 10 seconds of rest, repeated continuously for 4 minutes (8 cycles). The exercise was performed on a mechanically braked cycle ergometer.  Tabata et al. called this the “IE1 protocol”.

In the original study, athletes using this method trained four times per week, plus another day of steady-state training (see below), and obtained gains similar to a group of athletes who did steady state training (70% VO2max) five times per week. The steady state group had a higher VO₂max at the end (from 52 to 57 ml/kg/min), but the Tabata group had started lower and gained more overall (from 48 to 55 ml/kg/min).  Also, only the Tabata group had gained anaerobic capacity benefits. It is important to note that in the original study from 1996, participants were disqualified if they could not keep a steady cycling pace of 85 RPM for the full 20 seconds of work—thus, if one cannot keep up with the prescribed intensity, they may not see the same results observed in the study.

Now, I don’t know about the reader, but the IE1 protocol is beyond tough.  So, if your trainer is calling a workout “Tabata”, it is probably much less than this.  Those <12-minute cardio sessions?  They are probably not enough to elicit a significant cardiorespiratory adaptation—especially if they are made up of a series of body weight exercises (e.g., burpees).  These have their place—primarily for calorie burn—but they are not likely to improve oxygen consumption.

HIIT—that is specific to the cardiorespiratory system—should be about 20-30 minutes of exercise with at least 8-16 minutes of high-intensity intervals, but this is my rule-of-thumb.  There are no defined rules.  Indeed, the whole notion of “HIIT” is a bit arbitrary.  Key is the “HI”—high-intensity (>85% maximum)—and “IT”—interval training.  In other words, high-intensity burst followed by recovery period; repeat.

HIIT gets all the glory, but let’s not forget about her little brother, “MIIT”.  Moderate-intensity interval training is pretty much the same, but lower exercise intensity (~70-85% of maximum) intervals.  These can be done for a longer exercise session and are a safer risk of injury.

If you prefer a less complicated—zone-out—kind of cardio, there is also “steady-state” cardiorespiratory exercise.  Here, one typically doesn’t vary the intensity of the exercise.  An example would be running 3 miles on a treadmill at 9 miles per hour.  It is great for binge-watching Netflix and burning some kcals.  It can also be more boring and time consuming.

Steady-state cardio can typically run the gamut of low-intensity (LISS) to moderate-intensity (MISS) depending on the intensity.  In general, there will be an inverse relationship between time and intensity.  Time versus intensity is really a matter of preference and “opportunity cost”.

The duration of a cardio session can be set based on a time or calorie goal.  I often prefer to monitor calories over time when doing cardio (because my cardio goals are more closely tied to my body composition goals).  I know that I am more likely to push a little longer to extend the calorie burn, whereas I will stop at a time goal.  Whatever one prefers.

So, which type is best for you?  That is for you to answer.  It all depends on goals and opportunity.  If you are looking to burn calories and are limited on time, HIIT is probably the way to go—at least a couple of sessions per week (more in a moment).  If you have time and want to burn calories, then LISS might be best.  If your goals are improving oxygen consumption and performance (e.g., running a 5-K), MISS might be preferable.

The folks at Renaissance Periodization have published a pretty good pros and cons comparison chart:

More than likely, you will want to mix it up little bit—especially if your goals are mixed.  The most important thing is to do something.  Secondly, whatever you do, do it well.  If you are focused on building muscle, but want to live to show it off, I’d recommend HIIT a few sessions per week.  If you want to run a marathon, you are going to need to include some LISS in there—and find some time to squeeze some weight training in there, as well.

Remember: opportunity costs.  Manage your exercise time effectively.  Don’t put effort (and time) into what does not further your goals.  Time is precious.  Use it wisely!  Carpe momento!

It was a sad loss for country music yesterday with the passing of Don Williams.  The Gentle Giant was always my favorite country music artist.  In part, because I always thought he looked like my high school Physics and Geology teacher—Mr. Ian Smith, one of my favorite teachers.  Mostly, it was soft, deep voice and relevant lyrics that I loved the most.

I trust that the clock in heaven are now set to Tulsa time.

I can’t say I have a favorite Don Williams song—because they are all great—but “I Believe in Love” always strikes a chord.  It is still significant today as it was when he first released the recording in 1980.  So, I share the lyrics here and hope they resonate.

“I don’t believe in superstars
Organic food and foreign cars
I don’t believe the price of gold
The certainty of growing old
That right is right and left is wrong
That north and south can’t get along
That east is east and west is west
And bein’ first is always best.

But I believe in love
I believe in babies
I believe in mom and dad
And I believe in you.

Well, I dont believe that heaven waits
For only those who congregate
I’d like to think of God as love
He’s down below 
He’s up above
He’s watchin’ people everywhere
He knows who does and doesn’t care
And I’m an ordinary man
Sometimes I wonder who I am.

But I believe in love
I believe in music
I believe in magic
And I believe in you.

I know with all my certainty 
What’s goin’ on with you and me
Is a good thing 
It’s true
I believe in you.

I dont believe virginity 
Is as common as it used be
In workin’ days and sleepin’ nights
That black is black and white is white
That Superman and Robinhood
Are still alive in Hollywood
That gasoline’s in short supply
The risin’ cost of gettin’ by

But I believe in love 
I believe in old folks 
I believe in children 
I believe in you.

I believe in love
I believe in babies
I believe in mom and dad
And I believe in you.”

Image source: http://img.wennermedia.com/social/rs-226487-don-original.jpg

We’ve all heard the fable about the tortoise and the hare—slow and steady wins the race.  Is this necessarily the case, though?  The hare, after all, lost because it got lazy and cocky—not because it couldn’t be a slow tortoise!

I preach “consistency” to my son in football, but sometimes that translates: “complacency”.  What I want from him (and demand of myself) is “one-hundred percent effort, one-hundred percent of the time”.  I don’t get it from him or myself.

“Slow and steady” should suggest rather constant progression and improvement—i.e., “Be your best today; be better tomorrow.”  It should not imply a casual approach to self-improvement.  The tortoise won the race, not because it should have, but because it gave a consistent, best-effort.

Some change should not be rushed.  Weight-loss (i.e., fat­-loss) should be slow (1-2 pounds per week).  Other things should be as fast as possible (e.g., smoking cessation).  Overall, though, we should be steadily improving ourselves (Spiritually, Physically, Intellectually, Emotionally, and Socially).

Speed should always win races.  I will never beat Usain Bolt in a 100-m dash!  If you have the ability, don’t relax.  Always give your best effort.

My son is fast (he did not get the speed gene from me!).  Nonetheless, he rarely turns it on.  Honestly, it is frustrating.  It frustrates me, not because I want him to win every sprint in practice for my ego, but because I know he is not giving his best.  When we don’t give our best, we don’t improve.  It is the basic “overload principle”—If we don’t do more than that to which we are accustomed, there is not adaptation.  If we consistently do less we can lose our progress—the “principle of reversibility” (better known as “use it or lose it”).

My son is just a kid.  It is my role as a parent to be the example.  It is on me then to “be my best today; be better tomorrow”.  I must be working on constant improvement—constantly.  I must acknowledge my failings and give the same “one-hundred percent effort, one-hundred percent of the time” that I demand in others.

I have written before on the notion of “leave it all in this room” (a life lesson taught by wrestling).  When I teach, I expect to be drained by the end of class.  I know when my effort is subpar (as I am sure my students do, as well).  A favorite bible verse is “whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might” (Ecclesiastes 9:10, NIV).  In other words, don’t be the hare.

Slow and steady does not win races.  Best effort doesn’t always win races.  In life, however, as in sport, best effort produces the best result.  At the end of the day, it is not whether we win or lose, it is whether we had the will and the effort to win.

Be your best today; be better tomorrow.

Carpe momento!

“Continuous effort – not strength or intelligence – is the key to unlocking our potential.”—Winston Churchill

In the aftermath of Hurricane Harvey, Joel Osteen has become the poster-child for what is wrong with the Christian faith.  Whether the scorn is deserved or not need not be debated here.  What matters (or should matter) to any of us, who profess to be followers of Christ, is whether he is merely a scapegoat for our own misguided example.

I don’t have the wealth or prestige of Mr. Osteen, but that does not give me excuse to point along with others without questioning my own actions and intentions.  Rather, it has given me pause.  Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.  (I am not picking up any rocks.)

The tide of scorn toward Joel Osteen and professing Christians should refer us to the parable of the so-called “Good Samaritan”.  Even the non-churchgoer is familiar with the story—where a man, whose identity appears irrelevant, is robbed, beaten, and left for dead.  A priest and a Levite see the man, yet pass by (“on the other side”, which seems to reveal a sarcastic/humorous side to Jesus, as the road was too narrow to have an “other side”).  It is the Samaritan, one who would be bitterly hated by the lawyer—an expert of Jewish law—to whom the parable is being told, who stops and helps the man.   This is who is identified as the “neighbor” (as in “love your neighbor”!).  This is who we, as professing Christians—i.e., followers of Christ, are called to love: our neighbors, the ones we hate and despise.

Now, the parable of the good Samaritan has been watered down over the years of Sunday school.  We are taught that we are to help people who are in trouble.  Easy, right?  Easy until the person who is in trouble starts to look differently than you or me.

Maybe this is why the priest and the Levite passed by—the victim was not of their kind.  Maybe the Samaritan helped because the victim was another Samaritan.  It doesn’t matter, because the whole point of the parable is that we are to love our neighbor and “our neighbor” includes even the one we most hate (think of the kinds of people you find to be utterly despicable).

Before I question anyone’s motives, I must first make sure that my motives are right.  We are not, after all, responsible for anyone other than ourselves.  I am sure I have yet to ace the test.

Be your best today; be better tomorrow.

Carpe momento!

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“The only thing that interferes with my learning is my education.”—Albert Einstein

It is that time of year.  School has begun or is beginning across the nation.  Young minds are becoming “educated”.  What exactly “educated” means is up for debate.

In my humble opinion—as an educator—I believe that, overall, education has become a checklist.  It is a series of completed courses and grade levels with “satisfactory” grades or scores.  Now, there are many reasons for this, including politicians, unions, budgets, administrators, teachers, and parents.  There is as much blame to go around as there are things to be celebrated.  (I certainly don’t want to come across as unsupportive—especially of the countless well-meaning and effective teachers that make tremendous contributions in our communities.  There are even some good college professors. **wink**)  I do, however, believe we can do education better.  We do better by understanding what education is and what it is not.

Education is not:

A diploma.  Because someone possesses a piece of paper that says they have completed the requirements toward a degree does not mean one is educated.  It is like the joke: “What do you call a medical student who gets all C’s? —Doctor.”  Or like the saying: “a B.S. degree is bullsh**, a M.S. degree is more sh**, and a Ph.D. is piled higher and deeper.”  Or my favorite: “A Ph.D. is where you learn more and more about less and less until you know everything about absolutely nothing.”  I can go on.  (I love these.)  The point is that education is not an endpoint or a completed coursework.

Only accomplished in ivy covered buildings.  (Truth be told, I don’t think I ever took a course in a building with ivy growing on the walls.)  Education is not only accomplished in classrooms.  Consider that one of America’s greatest presidents, Abraham Lincoln, was largely self-taught.  Many (probably most) of the smartest and wisest people I know do not have advanced degrees.  Education can be accessed through books and experience.  Libraries, museums, television, and the Internet are pretty much universally accessible—and should be.  This was the philosophy behind the Carnegie library system.  Andrew Carnegie believed that such access should not be limited and that everyone should have the opportunity to help better themselves.  Given that such access has grown dramatically in the last hundred-plus years, we should be the most educated of generations.

Education is:

Lifelong.  Education does not end with the diploma or degree.  It is a process that continues to be refined with time.

An open door.  Education is only beneficial if it is used.  The end of a course or degree program is a beginning.  In other words, education leads to further learning.  The notion of a “terminal degree” does not imply an end to learning.  Rather a terminal degree concludes a formal process that enables one to lead the process in others.

The very basis of a liberal education is defined by the Association of American Universities and Colleges as “an approach to learning that empowers individuals and prepares them to deal with complexity, diversity, and change. It provides students with broad knowledge of the wider world (e.g. science, culture, and society) as well as in-depth study in a specific area of interest.”  Such does not require a formal institution.  It does suggest, however, that it is the learning skills themselves that “empowers individuals”.

For everyone.  Education must be accessible for all.  Critical to the success of our nation is that everyone have a foundational education—in science, technology, engineering, arts, and mathematics…and physical education.  This does not, however, mean that college is for everyone.  Indeed, there is a greater need to qualified tradespeople.  We must not suggest that education begins and ends in the classroom.

Unbiased.  Education should not be limited by the opinions or knowledge of the teacher.  Certainly, there are foundations and facts upon which learning is built—e.g., mathematical theorems, grammatical rules, scientific principles, etc.—but educators must be open to challenge.  It is my personal philosophy that respectful discourse is the foundation of a liberal education.  Questioning to the status quo is what progresses knowledge.  Querying should be encouraged.  Einstein, one of the most brilliant minds of all times, underscores this point when he said: “The only thing that interferes with my learning is my education.”  A teacher who does not believe that he or she has more to learn ceases to be an educator.  Likewise, none of us should be biased by what we were taught.  Rather, should be open to the challenge of expanding our worldview.

I believe there are Universal truths.  Our understanding of these, however, are often limited to the boxes that our present understanding (or lack thereof) creates.  Thus, to be truly learned, we must challenge the existence of even a box.  When Walt Disney said, “Don’t think outside the box! Once you say that, you’ve established that there is a box.”, I don’t believe he was inferring that there are no absolutes.  I believe his intention—and, surely, it is my intention here—was to say that such absolutes are not to be framed in our own minds or on the basis of our limited knowledge.  Anything that is absolute—or Universal—will stand the test of inquiry.  Thus, we should have no fear of ideas and opinions that challenge or “offend” us.

Be your best today; be better tomorrow!

Carpe momento!

“To know, is to know that you know nothing. That is the meaning of true knowledge.”–Socrates

“The heart of the discerning acquires knowledge, for the ears of the wise seek it out.”—Proverbs 18:15, NIV