Last night was a great experience in my Lancaster Challenge League at Leisure Lanes. I swept all three of my matches and two of my wins were within very narrow margins. I won my first match 206:180, my second match 215:211 and my last match 210:209. The first two matches were satisfying because when I am playing on tough scoring conditions, a win is a win. Yet I was irritated with myself because I had an opportunity, in each of the two matches, to help my team win the team totals point, but each time I threw shots errant enough to keep from striking.The last match however, reignited me. I showed up. I had been leading by 15 pins most of the match, but in the ninth frame I was a little off-balance and missed the pocket completely. I left a nasty washout: 1-2-4-6-10. I figured I just blew my match. My opponent also failed to strike in the foundation frame, but at least he only had a pesky 10pin to convert into a spare. For my part, my spare attempt was a disaster, I underestimated my ball reaction on the spare and ended up only mowing down the 1-2-4. My total after 9 frames: 180.
Then it was time for my opponent to convert his ten pin. He missed. His score in the ninth: also 180. As anchor, the scenario brewing at this point was the potential need to triple in order to win my individual along with the team point. Bowlers live for pressure situations like this one. I prefer to go first in these situations because I like to get in the head of my opponent with a solid strike.
No luck, my opponent's teammate finished before mine, so he was able to set the tone for the final frame. I have learned not to look at my opponent's shot in these situations. I had no need to know whether he struck or not. I had no need to see whether he had a lucky hit or not. My goal was clear-- triple and he can't win. So I turned my back to him and wiped dust off my bowling sole with my crying towel. The sound was unmistakably a strike, but I disciplined myself not to look at him or the score.
In pressure situations like these, I have learned to concentrate on what I could control and think in positives only. Every coach and athlete knows that though the brain may understand negatives, the body does not. My mantra in these situations (stop snickering, I do have one): Breathe. Head level. Chest high. Let the ball throw my arm. The result? A thunderous strike destroryed the rack.
He got up for his next shot. did not look at my opponents, the team, or the score. I jumped to the approach as soon as he took his first step, got a bead on my target. Breathe. Head level. (I could tell it was another strike from the sound of the impact, but it was muted by the silent chant of my mantra. God helps those who help themselves. My mantra, my prayer, steady my body Lord, I can do the rest.) Chest high. Let the ball throw my arm. Bam! Another solid strike.
He lead the charge into the third bonus ball. Again, not looking, I recognized the sound, tinny and unimpressive, probably a flat ten pin. I didn't know. I noted his teammates' condoling encouragement, but I would not look at his score or his lane. I didn't want to know. "Just execute." I could feel my balance slip a little into the delivery so I rotated it harder at the release. Bang. Strike three.
Mission accomplished. I won the match. I showed up. The adrenaline rush was awesome. Slowly, my game was coming back. After nearly 2 years of fighting through rehab of a replaced ACL and resurfaced minisci in my sliding leg, the player I know I was, and still am, is returning. Vindication. Affirmation. It turns out that, not only did I win all three individual points, but I also posted the third high series for the night in our league.
Finally, I was able to do in league what I try to do each day in class: show up. It's not about attendance, its about being present, living in the moment, and showing you can be counted upon. That is when the richness of our profession fills me up. There is nothing like the feeling of "I did that," and the that was helping a kid be successful, not just helping the team win a match. Priceless. I imagine my satisfaction in living a purposeful life is much the same as my father's when his five patents for television designed were approved and GE implemented them immediately into production. This is my vocation. Selfishly, I stay in it because I love knowing that what I do in my classroom matters, not just for today but also into the future. Every decision I consciously and unconsciously make is preidcated upon that one conviction.
This week I was presented with a reading problem from a concerned parent. We just started literature circles and her child was having extreme difficulty reading one chapter. After reading the parent e-mail, I took the time to call the student over and ask him about how his reading was going. After talking a while, it was clear to me that he needed to hear the words.
The problem brought me back to my old days as a reading teacher in NJ. That school had an extensive audio library, nearly every book taught in our classes was available as an audio book. The student softened when he finally realized I was trying to help him. Today, he came to class feeling accomplished because using the read-aloud strategy enabled him to do his homework without a hitch. It's taken three marking periods for the student to get that I'm a teacher, and not an ogre or disciplinarian. For me, there is no comparison to seeing a closed, frustrated face open to you, ready to learn. I fight internally daily to be present for my students, to be ready when they are ready to let down their defenses and let me teach them. I fight being influenced by frustrations generated by the other stuff.
My dad told me when I was a teen, "Boy, if you never want to work a day in your life, do something you love. You won't believe they're paying you to do it." It took me three different career paths to find that job and this is it. He also admonished me "There is [stuff] you will have to deal with in every job, but that [stuff] won't matter so much when you're doing what you're supposed to be doing." There is stuff, plenty of it, I try not to get overwhelmed by it. I remember church ladies on Sunday mornings in my grandmother's church testifying how they would not let evil steal their joy. I don't let stuff steal mine. I am present. When I stop being able to be present, I will stop teaching.
...bet you didn't think I'd be able to take a successful bowling night and bring it back to teaching, did you?
