Consider the Output

"Perhaps in our search for personal satisfaction and pleasure, we've dug so deeply into ourselves that we've forgotten each other"

Wiggington in Introduction to Foxfire

Muffin (not his real name) is one of the 12-year-old swimmers who I coach five days a week.  He asks me if he can race a girl in his lane to see who's faster.   I tell him he should stop thinking so much about beating his teammates and work together with them to get faster instead.  I tell him to stop worrying so much about competition.  Muffin asks,  "Isn't that the point of swimming?"

My heart breaks.

I so do not blame Muffin for thinking that competition is the only reason he steps onto the pool deck every day for practice.  In fact, I guess while I had been dedicating my entire adolescent life to athleticism, I thought the same thing.  It feels good to win.  But really think about it for a second: How does beating someone fill our hearts with joy?  How much can we really get out of saying we are better than someone at something?

Competition is a villainous contributor to much of the anguish and hate that exists in our country.  It builds hierarchies and kindles jealousy.  Americans are increasingly fixated on climbing corporate ladders and obtaining a better career status than our neighbors.  Competition is the reason all industries in the US have become centralized and the reason that bigger toys that cause mass destruction are always required.  It is the reason capitalism is so successful, and it is a void-filler of insecurities that dwell everywhere.

There are also plenty of benefits to competition, and of course it is a valuable element of being a swimmer.  But it should not be the entire point of anything, as Muffin claims.

The truth about competition is it's fun.  It feels great.   Showcasing a well-deserved performance after  training for it rigorously is an awesome feeling.  That moment of glory is usually worth all the sweaty input.  But what is the output?  How has all of that invested time had a positive impact on the world?

I scold Muffin for thinking that swimming is only about competition, and I walk away (slipping embarrassingly a little on the deck as I do so) thinking Wait a second, what IS the point of swimming?  Why am I investing so much of my time in coaching this sport?  


The questions have haunted me all weekend.  I've decided that on Monday I will have a conversation with all my swimmers and discuss the many values of being on the YMCA swim team.  I've come up with plenty of my own, but I want to hear what they have to say.  Kids often astound me with their brilliance, and we definitely don't credit their intelligence enough.  Maybe they'll come up with better reasoning for the sport than I have.  But here's what I've discovered:  


By participating in a sport or extracurricular activity such as swimming, an athlete will form long-lasting relationships, remain physically fit (depending on the input, I suppose), learn effective time-management skills, and acknowledge the benefits of genuine hard work and commitment.   Of course athletics can be applicable to everyday life.  Most importantly, though, success can be used as a tool to make positive things happen. 


If an athlete's goal is to maximize community output, their input can be an extremely powerful tool.  For example, swimming has allowed me to acquire a position of influence as a swim coach.  A gifted cyclist could arrange a cyclethon to raise money for a good cause.  An amazing football player could inspire high school boys to abandon their video games and go outside to toss a football.  


It all depends on how you decide to construct the projection of your output based on your input. So at the beginning of practice Monday, after we discuss the values of swimming, I will urge the swimmers to do one thing as they dive into the water:  Consider the output.  

Leaning In

The product of a solved dilemma is a choice. Unless you just got the $250,000 question correct on Who Wants to be a Millionaire or something along those lines, there is really no way to know if the right choice is ever made.  So we can only do one thing once our minds have been made and we've cooked up our favorite solution:  Lean into it and hope for the best.


Lately I've struggled with something many educators have debated over in the past.  Scholars have resiliently examined whether or not the concepts of educate and activate can ever exist in the same classroom.

As a result of some intense reading and research that I've been doing for one of my classes, my mind has conceived a tiny man who likes to drill me with questions about my future vocation.  Hundreds of pages about sweat shops, environmental damage caused by a generation dependent upon convenience, and the ignorance of mankind has left the little man in my head begging for the answer to two questions:  How can I become an activist and a teacher at the same time? And are my priorities really where they should be?


Specifically, I wonder how the plan I've laid out for myself (graduating from Penn State, maintaining my job as a swim coach, pursuing a teaching career) will help the world.  I wonder how teaching about Mark Twain or how to swim the breaststroke the right way will ever help to build community.

In other words, I'm faced with a dilemma.  When I can't decide whether to abandon modern society entirely and visit a third world country or to just appreciate the opportunities that I've been given and shut up, I need to remember that all the things that make me itch about the world cannot be solved with one simple scratch.  It all has to start with practical, tiny solutions.  And it all starts now.

We can either allow ourselves to be sucked into the intoxicating vacuum of an egocentric, fast-paced society, or we can dismiss it all and create our own lifestyle.  I look at the way my life could go in the future, and I see phenomenal opportunities.  Instead of trapping myself in the mindset that my job cannot possibly teach the values that I believe in, I embrace what I've chosen to do and decide to suck all the juice out of it that I can get.  I decide to lean into it.  


I coach a wonderful group of swimmers between the ages of ten and twelve.   Instead of just drilling perfect technique into their brains or helping Johnny become the fiercest competitor, I establish a goal for myself to help these swimmers become the happy, loving people that I'd like to see more of in the world.

Today we met each other, and I asked all the swimmers to write down something interesting about themselves and what they really needed from the swim team on a notecard and pass it in.  "I've gotten 3 bullzeyes in a row with an airlift pistol, I want to break a record," and "I like to play hide and go seek, I need an escape from school" were some of the answers I received.  My favorite was "I have model trains and I can shoot fairly well.  I'd like to go to states."

In reflecting on this exercise, I realize that each swimmer--each miniature human--has a specific need and has the potential to accomplish a dream.   I am given the opportunity to inspire these children; their successes or failures could very easily reflect my actions.  This is an enormous responsibility.  How will I choose to inspire them?  Will I be the change that I want to see in the world?

The product of a solved dilemma is a choice.  I've chosen to form relationships with students and swimmers and inspire.  I haven't joined the Peace Corp, and I have been guilty of using too many disposable paper products.  What I have to do now is channel all my energy toward helping the world within the limits of the plan that I've laid out for myself; I need to  lean into it with enthusiasm and make it happen.