Allow me a brief baseball interlude during this October
playoff season (for relevance sake, I will tie this into teaching, with only limited
intellectual acrobatics, by the endpoint).
The Baltimore Orioles were supposed to stink this year. On paper, they looked terrible. Statistically
speaking? Terrible. In the eyes of the experts? Terrible.
A last place team waiting to happen.
Some predicted they would lose about
100 games. Yet a funny thing
happened on the way to cellar – the Orioles became….good. Not good in the sense of setting your
expectations to curb level, jumping onto the sidewalk, and celebrating exceeded
expectation. They are Yankee good. That’s right, I said it: Yankee good.
They are in the playoffs, a black
and orange David, hurling change ups and curveballs at the bloated “Yankee,
Inc.” Goliath.
How did this happen? In
baseball, players traditionally are measured on five different tools – power, batting average, throwing arm,
fielding ability, and speed. Prognosticators
assessed too many Orioles lacking too many of these tools. In the era of Big Data and Sabermetrics,
nonplussed statisticians kept predicting an Oriole demise that never came. Now, this is a logical point where this post could
morph into a “Dear Buck Showalter, I am your biggest fan” valentine to the
Orioles’ manager. [FN1] I will resist,
knowing that the greatness of Buck’s attention to every winning detail is
documented elsewhere. [FN2]
I'll just say that for Buck and the Orioles, it must have been exhausting, politely
answering the same question for six months, a million poorly disguised
iterations of “why don’t you stink as much as we think you should?” [FN3] There
are two constants in their year-long responses.
One is the reliance on setting high expectations. We
covered that last post. Buck knows
pygmalion. The
second is a reference to the cryptic “sixth tool”. Here
are two illustrative quotes from Buck:
“People kind of shake
their heads about us statistically and how's this happened. But people who
evaluate that sixth tool know what's going on. Put that on a pie chart.”
-and-
“It’s hard to put a number on somebody’s heart
and gut. It’s the sixth tool.”
The point: looking beyond
impressive credentials and good technique, character and courage matter, too.
All of this has relevance to teaching, too, I suspect.
First, we can ask ourselves “what are the instructional equivalents
of baseball’s five tools, the measurable abilities that lead to teaching
success?” Perhaps
it is actually “seven tools,” as per Arthur Chickering's Seven Principles of Good Practice in Undergraduate Education?
[FN4]
Secondly, what might be the teacher equivalent of Buck’s
intangible “sixth tool”, the elements of character that fuel good teaching?
Do “heart” and “gut” apply in the classroom as they do in
baseball? Or is that concept too sportsy
and combat-ish? Is there a different
intangible that eludes the adjunct’s resume but can greatly impact learning? Maybe passion? Passion for people? Passion for the subject matter? Passion for life? Or maybe courage? How about authenticity?
Some will say, if I cannot measure it, I will not invest in
it. My response is: then let’s figure out the best ways to
measure passion and courage and invest in them as much as we can.
Let’s go Orioles.
[FN1] I recently
found a letter in my basement, a draft letter to the Yankees written when I was
eight. Adult life often is a search for clues about where in childhood the
train left the tracks. This letter does
not explain all of the derailments but provides, perhaps, some insight to
current vices: “I watch every game. I
bet my father and always take your team”.
The letter was proofed by my Mom and that line remained in the final
letter to George Steinbrenner, et. al.
[FN2] Buck sets detailed organizational expectations that
serve as a measuring stick for each member; either you are or are not the type
of person who can play for the Orioles. I
like to think of you, the SPS adjunct, as being part of a likewise honorable select. As part of the SPS family you are the
type of person who can inspire adult students.
[FN3] I wonder if people sometimes underestimate adjunct
instructors in the same fashion. By
focusing on the wrong credentials a good adjunct might be undervalued
a la a Moneyball market inefficiency.
Give us a good person of sound character, someone with diverse knowledge
and relevant experience, someone who possesses a desire to teach for the
right reasons, and we can equip them with all the rest.
[FN4] Chickering’s Seven Principles of Good Practice are as
follows: (1) encourages contact between
students and faculty, (2) develops reciprocity and cooperation among students,
(3) encourages active learning, (4) gives prompt feedback, (5) emphasizes time
on task, (6) communicates high expectations, and (7) respects diverse talents
and ways of learning.
