The Big Game – Suited Up at the 40

It takes a while to really get it.  At the proverbial mid-field point myself, I would say I am still trying to live the reality every day, but better late than never.  Here’s how it works:

We think we are born naked, but we’re not really.  We are wearing tiny, invisible, game day uniforms.  Little knee pads, wee helmets, grippy cleats, the whole ensemble.  Over time we start to notice not only are we suited up, we’re on the field.  So is everyone else.

We look around and start trying to identify our team members.  We talk strategy, and possible plays, and rest periods and practice times.  Sometimes we lose teammates, and that hurts.  Sometimes we find out we are playing a position at which we are terrible, but fortunately we have the choice to move around.  Good teammates will let us do that.  Sometimes we get traded, and sometimes we get suspended.  We are injured, sometimes severely.  We win games.  We lose games.  We go into overtime.

Slowly it dawns on us that these things are not happening to us.  We are engaged in most outcomes, and certainly always in our responses to the dynamics of the game.  It’s a relief, and it’s also a humbling and sobering moment of truth.

One of biggest learning  points in The Big Game is that the refs are not ethical arbiters.  Law is only law, and what is legal or technically aligned with the rules of the game most often only coincidentally aligns with what is right.  Learning to know the difference and to respect what that difference requires of us is a demand of the game with no clock running down. 

It is always on.

There is no postponement of The Big Game.  We are all playing it right now, and the sooner the adults involved in the West Virginia AAA State Football tournament debacle wake up to that reality and what we are teaching kids with this ridiculous behavior, the better.  It may be too late, because at the moment the field is littered with nothing but losers as far as the eye can see.

On an up note, one great thing about The Big Game is that there is often a thrilling emergence of an unexpected hero.  My hope is that hero turns out to be the kids themselves.  Time will tell.

The Creativity Crisis, or Where Have All the Grown Ups Gone?

Newsweek magazine has a great piece out right now on The Creativity Crisis.  It makes many excellent observations that go beyond the scope of this post, but one particular concept keeps hovering in my mind, and I wonder if anyone else ever thinks about this kind of thing: Is it possible we aren’t really growing up at the same rate we used to?  Could it be that even as technical adults we are parenting with an adolescent mentality that is smothering our kids’ capacity to develop their creativity?  Children model what we do, not what we say.

Getting older doesn't always mean getting wiser.

“The accepted definition of creativity is production of something original and useful, and that’s what’s reflected in the tests. There is never one right answer. To be creative requires divergent thinking (generating many unique ideas) and then convergent thinking (combining those ideas into the best result).”

The article talks about how children today are scoring lower on creativity tests, and ponders if too much TV time is to blame.  Surely our lock-step consumer culture that feeds conformity and insecurity to children must play a role, but I think who’s spoon feeding that culture might, uncomfortably, be a bit closer to home.  A lot closer.

“Kim found creativity scores had been steadily rising, just like IQ scores, until 1990. Since then, creativity scores have consistently inched downward. ‘It’s very clear, and the decrease is very significant,’ Kim says. It is the scores of younger children in America—from kindergarten through sixth grade—for whom the decline is ‘most serious.'”

I am very frustrated by my own experience with a negative environment around divergent thinking in some of my adult peer groups.  These are not necessarily my friends, but sometimes they are.  And oddly I think I could also track the beginning of the end of comfortable disagreements between social friends and colleagues back to about 1990, the year the creativity tests started showing significant declines in our children’s abilities to think like innovators, inventers, and problem-solvers.

We used to be able to hash things out, have a drink and move on.  But there is an edge to many conversations now that feels a lot less open and trusting and confident.  I’ve come to identify what I call simply “The Look.”  It’s what I get every now and then when I express too many thoughts or ideas on a subject I thought was open for discussion, and apparently is not.  It could be mountaintop removal, or marriage, or art, or even whether or not this french toast is as good as it used to be.  The Look says you’ve crossed a line.  I am now suspicious of you.  You are saying things that open cans of worms and you really should stop now.  But it’s too late.

Things are never really the same after The Look.

I have an unprovable theory that since as a species we are living longer, we effectively have extended our developmental adolescence.  Growing up takes longer.  Taking on responsibility is delayed.  And in this murky man-child world, we are more insecure than generations before us about openly exploring divergent thinking well into our adult years.  As a group, we are more susceptible to bringing an adolescent mindset to disagreements, and therefore more easily pressured into squashing down the divergent thinking process as soon as it hits a peer pressure wall.  If this is true, it’s wreaking havoc on multiple up and coming generations in ways new and unpleasant, with consequences we have yet to discover fully.

Clearly, there are other dynamics at play.  International anxieties, the economy, the rise of the political far right, and the counter energies of the far left — all come together, then apart, then reconnect over and over again as they have around the world for centuries.  Except this time it’s us.  The good ole U.S. of A.  And it’s a really bad time to be inadvertently raising a generation of conformists who are afraid of the shadows of their own thoughts. 

Let’s have that drink and move on.  I’m buying.