I don’t watch a lot of TV.
I have specific shows I keep up with, but I don’t come home after work
and flip on the TV. I don’t have cable
and don’t have a DVR. I do binge-watch
shows on DVDs checked out from the library.
But all in all, I can’t say that television is a major focus of my day. However, that all changes when the Olympics roll around. For the two weeks previous, I’ve been pretty
much obsessed with what was going on in Sochi.
I would watch the Today Show every morning to see interviews with
winning (and losing) athletes. If I had some time in
the middle of the day, I’d grab my remote right when coverage started at
3pm. Once I got home from work, the
first thing I did was turn on the television.
Two years ago, I had the same routine with the London summer Games.
I love sports. If I
did have cable, I think the likelihood is high that ESPN would be my go-to
background noise.
But the Olympics seem to be different than just flipping on an average
basketball or football game. (Just to
clarify, “average” means the same as “random”. Watching my teams play is a totally different experience and separate from what I am about to say.) When it comes to the Olympics, I
am far more invested in what’s going on in front of me, and I feel like I care
more about the athletes. I’ve been
thinking a lot about why that is, and I have a couple ideas. I would guess it is partly because of the patriotic aspect of the the Olympics. I can identify with the American athletes simply because they are American. It may also be because the Olympics are a one shot deal. If a baseball player has a bad game, he gets a bajillion more tries. Olympians do not have that luxury. The central idea I have been chewing on the most has to do with work, though. Odd, you say? Follow me.
J
I’ve had some trouble finding a job that makes me
happy. (If you’d like to take this
moment to look up “understatement of the decade” in a dictionary, I believe you
will find this statement.) For most of
my twenties, I was in a work situation that I would consider a holding pattern,
a temporary fix to a very big problem. Much
time has been spent trying to figure out why this average adult decision has given
me so much trouble. I went through
college without ever questioning the line of work that I chose: teaching. In fact, despite all my angst, I still don’t
question that I am gifted to be a teacher.
I think what’s taken me a long time is how to teach and be a happy, healthy
adult at the same time. So, my work life
is punctuated by spurts of classroom teaching jobs mixed in with various office jobs.
I guess no one can accuse me of not trying to figure out (a)
what the problem with classroom teaching is and (b) whether or not I should
completely start over in the job department.
I’ve been to career counseling; I’ve researched graduate schools; I’ve
tried new lines of work; I’ve applied for countless jobs; I’ve taken aptitude
tests; I’ve talked with friends and family; I’ve interviewed completely random
people about their jobs; I’ve quit jobs without new ones. But everything I’ve done has led me back to
the slightly frustrating fact that what I love and what I’m good at is
teaching.
Growing up, I feel like no one tells the truth about having a
job. The confusion starts when we are
very young. An all-too-common question
posed to children is “And what do you want to be when you grow up?” Poorly informed kids, groomed to believe that
growing up and getting a job will be the pinnacle of their existence on earth,
start to dream big at this point.
Doctor. Lawyer. Teacher.
Police officer. Baseball
player. Singer. The loftiest of dreams are brought to the
table and, until about the eighth grade, encouraged. I mean, when was the last time you heard an
adult say to a small child: “Hmm…wanting to be a basketball player in the NBA
sounds like a blast, but only 1.2% of college basketball players ever make it
to the pros, so you miiiiight want to re-think that life plan.” It’s probably not a comment you’ve heard very
often. Children are told they can be
anything they want to be, and they play dress up with abandon, believing that
they can become whatever it is they are imagining.
Starting right around high school, adults start to drop hints
of what working really entails. No
longer do people ask “What you want to be?”
Now it becomes “What do you want to do?” Notice:
the focus changes from what we are
to what we do. Because of this, many students choose a work path based on where they feel they excel or where they feel most comfortable.
“I’m good at math, so I will become an engineer” or “My dad owns a
business, so I’ll study business, too.”
Of course, there is nothing wrong with playing to strengths and/or family
experience. I know plenty of people who have
chosen their profession this way and have found great happiness. But there also are plenty of people who find
this way of thinking doesn’t pave the path to personal success.
I would posit that for people like me who struggle it is
related to the fact that simply “doing” something isn’t enough. I can look back on my twenties and know that
my problem has centered around trying to find a job that marries “being” with
“doing.” For example, I started scribbling
notes about this topic in 2008 when I was working at a law firm full time. I was a receptionist and a legal
assistant. It was a good job with great
benefits. Sometimes the lawyers yelled
at me, but most days were pretty easy, uneventful, and straightforward. At the time, I needed some distance between
myself and teaching, so working in a legal office seemed like as good a choice
as any. I was doing a job that paid my
bills, had salary advancement potential, could have led to a career in the
legal world, and meant a steady 9-5 schedule.
It was the kind of job that provided stability and structure. None of these are bad things. But I knew within about three months of doing
that job that if I stayed there, I would eventually poke my eyes out with
forks. It was a job that was 100% “do”
and 0% “be.” I suppose the argument could be made that the “being” part of life happens (or should happen) outside of work, so a
job doesn’t have to create room for that.
I think that can be true for some people. But for me, a job that doesn’t allow for both
is not a job I want to keep, and I wonder how many other people who have
struggled to find meaningful work that they love would say the same thing.
I think this is where the Olympics – and Olympians – come into
play. When I watch the Olympics, I have
a twinge of envy lurking in the back of my mind. During February, I thought a lot about why
that is. While a small part of it is
because of how freely (and legitimately) they can wear spandex in public, I
think most of it is because the Olympics is a celebration of doing what you are.
There are two parts of that idea – the “do” and the
“be”. First of all, Olympians are people
who spend their days doing their sport. For
many of these athletes, their sport is their whole job. (Well, except for the curlers. Apparently the American curling team was made
up of a restaurant manager, a middle school science teacher, an engineer, and a college student.) It seems like fun and games, but really think about making a sport into a profession. I know people who love to ski on
weekends, but I don’t know anyone who would be willing to spend six to eight
hours every day of the week skiing
and/or weightlifting and/or running and/or whatever else they have to do become
Olympic skiiers. A person who chooses to
train for the Olympics has to allocate huge blocks of time to the training
process. Sacrifice and commitment must
be at the forefront of an Olympian’s mind. Sacrifice is never easy, but when a person is passionate about
something, it is a choice that same person is willing to make.
Secondly, these Olympic athletes truly love their
sport. That might not seem
extraordinary; everyone has things they love.
However, the level of commitment that Olympians have to their sport
would suggest that whatever sport they are doing is more than just a hobby. Here’s what I mean: I love running, and I make time for running about
three times a week. It’s an activity
that I love, but not an activity that defines me or my schedule. However, when I trained for a marathon my
senior year of college, running became a part of who I was. It had to be if I was going to make the
choice to parcel out the training time I needed. Not that I was anywhere close to an Olympic
marathoner, but during that process, I got a small taste of what it must be
like to both “do” and “be” a sport. Olympians
have found a way to be who they are while doing what they love. Without seeing their sport as an extension of
themselves, I have to believe it would be hard to stay motivated. I think this is why we are so drawn to the
human interest pieces that news outlets cover during the Games. If these athletes were just robots who did a
sport, we most likely wouldn’t care. But
they aren’t robots. They are real
people, and as fellow real people, we want to hear more about who Olympians are. What their motivation is. How they have overcome obstacles along the
way. Why they do what they do. These are the pieces that make Olympians
human, and those human pieces are crucial to understanding why they have chosen
to spend so much time doing their sport.
So, essentially, my envy of those participating in the Olympics
is rooted in the fact that they spend all day doing something they are good at which
is also a reflection of who they are and where their passions lie. Looking again at the idea of work, I’ve often
wondered why finding this perfect combination has been so difficult for me (and
others).
I suppose a logical question at this point in the discussion
would be something like this: “Umm…didn’t you say earlier that teaching was
something you love and something you are good at?” And I would respond, “Well, yes. I did.”
Then there would be a slightly awkward silence since that’s the true
answer to the question, and it doesn’t require much explanation since any
explanation I would offer there would sound like excuses. But after the awkward silence, I would say
that finding this part of my identity is a work in progress. Perhaps why I have loved watching the
Olympics so much these last few years is because Olympians have challenged me
to see more clearly my journey toward work I love. Specifically, these amazing athletes have
shown me the power of (A) try-try-trying again (also known as “making choices”)
and (B) refusing to be afraid (also known as “making choices”).
Let’s all admit something difficult. Olympic athletes are average people. Not average when we consider they’ve
qualified for the Olympics – which I recognize makes them part of a small
percentage of the world’s population – but average from the standpoint that
they are made of the same material you and I are made of. Their material may be a bit more toned, but Olympians are people like you and me. Again, I believe that’s why we love hearing
about their backgrounds. There is a “me,
too!” quality to those stories. [Side note:
Blog post for another day is arguing for the fact that the point of
storytelling – and art – is to create “me, too!” moments.] The “me, too!” may not be related to athletic
ability. Even when we know that we aren’t
physically capable of doing what they are doing, seeing athletes as people
brings them down from the untouchable pedestal they often are placed on and then humanizes them. I think it’s really
important to establish the “we are all human” aspect of this topic before moving
on. If Olympians are super-human then
there is nothing to be learned from them, only qualities to be admired or
copied. Learning implies application,
not just emulation. Emulation leads to the eventual (disappointing) realization that we are trying to be something we
never can be. Application leads to individual
adaptation of what we learn from others and, hopefully, personal success. I will never find success as a
five-minute-mile marathon runner, because I’m not capable of running that
fast. However, I can find success as a nine-and-a-half-minute-mile
10K runner by applying the lessons I’ve learned from marathon runners. When it’s all said and done, we all have our
own version of the Olympics in our lives, and watching these athletes compete in
their Olympics can challenge us to rethink how we compete in our own.
I have more to say on this topic, and I don’t feel like I
have come full circle yet, but I feel like this is getting lengthy and like I need to think more, so I will
stop for today. Consider this Part 1. J
