Via Facilis

Adolescents (and many young[er] adults as well) are in a constant battle with what they perceive as two diametrically opposed desires:

to be their own person;
to be part of a group.

In being part of a group, kids feel pressure to be like everyone else in that group. Many think that they have to sacrifice their identities, or some key aspects of those identities, to gain entry into this safety of numbers.

Self-confidence comes when adolescents realize that they fit into a group not in spite of, but because of, their independence.

And independence is itself a manifestation of who a kid is.

The better "groups", insofar as such "cliques" can be, accept this individualization, however grudgingly; some even celebrate the "craziness" of their members.

Thus it is who a kid is that fortifies the group, not the group that fortifies a kid.

So what is self-confidence anyway?
I don't know.

I do know the operative word in self-confidence:

Self.
Unhyphenated.

More about those groups and cliques I mentioned in the previous post.

They have a tendency to view themselves as the "elite" - the best, the brightest, the most beautiful, etc. They encourage this view of themselves in others.
Others almost too quickly help reinforce these pronouncements and proclamations.

The best education.
The best clubs.
Where the Elite go.

Sometimes, clubs, groups, cliques, etc. die out, or grow no further. We can look back in the past and laugh that we were a part of them.

It is when they become institutions that the problems set in.
In the former Soviet Union, if you were a high member of the Party, you could do what you want.

George Orwell, disillusioned and disabused socialist as a result of the heavy handedness of that Man of Steal...uhh... Steel....Stalin, wrote in his political allegory Animal Farm the famous words:

"All animals are equal, but some are more equal than others."

Corruption becomes rife.

The most difficult challenge is the effort it takes to get into such groups, not the blood, sweat, and impossible expenditure of energy it takes to earn one's way out. Because there is no need of such effort. The in-crowd is the focus. Everyone else is out of it.

I was an avid watcher of the old television series Kung Fu. It was a fabulous show, full of life lessons.

I found the ending credit scene particular poignant.

The young acolyte Kwai Chang Kane must walk the distance of thirty yards on rice paper without leaving a trace, then remove a huge cauldron with his forearms, burning the dragons of the Shao-Lin temple imperishably and indelibly into his skin.
The act of removing the cauldron triggers the opening of a trapdoor.
The acolyte is confronted by the terrible aloneness of the outside world in the dead of winter, snow blizzarding down. And he, forearms burned, feet bare, in threadbare robes, faces it utterly alone.

He has left the place where he has been all his life.
Only then does the acolyte become a priest.

This is what his group life, his living in the Shao-Lin temple, has set him up for.
Not a cushy existence.
Not even "Servant, Well Done."

Rather, "Servant, Thy Work Has Just Begun."

But this is not what happens with the Elite.
Far from it.

How about with major universities?
How about so-called excellent schools?

There can be no doubt that originally these places had a reality that led to their current reputations.

But.

They have rested on their laurels.

Does real learning go on there?
Does real teaching go on there?

Maybe.
Sometimes.

But these are the elite!

So?

So does it matter if real learning and teaching go on there maybe or sometimes?

Apparently not.

If we're talking "Elite".

Elite? No longer.

Effete.

A couple of weeks ago, the Yankees, my favorite baseball team, were in the throes of the worst stretch of baseball woes they'd experienced and been a party to since 1995. They couldn't do anything right. And the Red Sox, their arch-rivals, had a ridiculous 13 and a half game lead on them.

There they were in Toronto playing the Blue Jays.
There were two outs, runners on 2nd and 3rd, and a high fly pop-up had just been launched in the direction of the shortstop, symptomatic of yet another frustrating attempt by the Yankees to score with fewer than two outs and runners in scoring position.
The pop-up was, in baseball lingo, a can of corn.

Then Alex Rodriguez, while running behind the Blue Jay shortstop on his way to third, said "I got it!"

Keep in mind that the shortstop is supposed to be the captain of the infield.
If he calls for a ball, he takes the ball.
Even if it's close.
And nobody - I mean, NOBODY - calls him off it.

Did we get that?

The shortstop calls the ball.
Nobody calls him off it.
No exceptions.
Period.

Especially on a routine pop-up like this one.

Yet as soon as he hears Arod, the Blue Jay shortstop jumps out of the way.
The fans groan.
Understandably.
The ball falls in for a hit.
Obviously.

The Yankees go on to win that game, and eight more after that.
Woes over.

Aggressive stupidity, Naivitee, self-centered justice just beginning.

The shortstop, a 20/30 something year old, complains bitterly to the third base umpire.
The Blue Jay manager joins the gripe session.
Can you imagine?
Sure, you say.
But can you imagine that the umpires actually took what he was saying into consideration? Had a group confab right then and there on the field?
Decided that there was nothing they could do?
That after the game, Joe Torre, the Yankee manager, said it was not the most appropriate time for Arod to say something like that?
That for a week or so after that, the Media kept printing headlines like "Arod Told To Keep Mouth Shut"?

Please.

This wasn't a check from behind that endangered the physical well-being of the player.
It wasn't a blind-side hit.
It wasn't even a hard slide into third, spikes up.
Nor a play at the plate, which has resulted in concussions for the catcher on many occasions.
Nor was it shouting obscenities to distract a player.

It was a psych-out.

And it worked beautifully.

Do you think if someone said that to Derek Jeter, the Yankee shortstop, he would have jumped out of the way?

Let's say it together.
"No."

Cut to "The Bobby Orr Story."
This was about the great Bobby Orr, defenseman for the Boston Bruins.
It was a kids book. Is a kids book.

At the beginning of one of the chapters, Orr is playing in one of his first games in the NHL.
He's skating out of his own zone when suddenly a voice in his ear says, "Bobby, I'm right behind you, drop the puck."

Orr does so.
The crowd groans.
Turning around, Orr helplessly watches Yvan Cornoyer of the Montreal Canadiens go in on a breakaway and score a goal.

Did Bobby Orr, a future hockey hall of famer, a player to be reckoned perhaps the greatest defenseman in NHL history, complain to the referee?

No.

Did he think what had happened to him was unfair?
Most likely.

Did he look for retribution?
For some higher authority to step in and "make it right"?
No.
Why not?
Because he knew that the play and its outcome, painful though they be, were the result of his own, and only his own, poor judgment.
Did he look to blame someone else for his foolish, rookie mistake?
No.
It was his action and, in the final analysis, his choice.

Did he learn from it?

Apparently.

My, how times have changed.

It wouldn't bother me so much if this were one isolated incident.
It isn't.

The incident brings to the fore a disturbing trend in the world view of 20/30 something year olds.
The next generation.

It is a dangerous trend.
We must address it.