CalallenWildcat
11-28-2006, 09:33 AM
I don't know of many places in Texas with this problem...this article is a must read:
http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/opinion/chi-0611010016nov01,0,3286922.story?coll=chi-newsopinioncommentary-hed
The loss of school spirit
By Cory Franklin
Published November 1, 2006
Remember school spirit? That quaint, archaic term from a bygone era of crew cuts, bouffants, cars cruising Main Street and the Beach Boys singing "Be True to Your School." Though pockets of resistance remain, the revolution against school spirit began sometime between the Cold War and the war on terror.
One imagines a poster boy of that revolution, John "Bluto" Blutarsky, John Belushi's "Animal House" persona, hearing the words "school spirit," arching his eyebrows and smashing a beer can against his forehead in contempt.
Once upon a time, weekly high school football and basketball games were the community focal point. The pageantry and marching band added excitement to the football game. The local gym needed the balconies to supplement main-floor seating for basketball crowds.
Enthusiastic students, along with parents and community members, took as much pride in watching classmates who marched or danced as they did in the game.
But the past is a foreign country where they do things differently. Today, attendance at many games is dropping (one pocket of resistance, the St. Rita-Mt. Carmel game between two traditional Chicago football powers, draws huge crowds). The marching band and pom-pom team, if they exist at all, may show up to perform and leave before the game is over. At many schools, pep rallies and cheerleading squads have gone the way of Marshall Field's. All this has the effect of making athletes a separate and distinct caste from their peers, fueling the notorious athletic sense of entitlement. School spirit disappears and the sense of community it fosters ebbs. It's not the only reason kids become alienated during high school but it's one piece of the puzzle.
Today, technology and affluence provide other diversions lacking in human interaction--the Internet, iPod, 500 cable channels (with nothing on) and more automobiles, i.e., more mobility. Social changes and the vanishing nuclear family, evidenced in one-parent households, and working mothers mean fewer adults attending games. Gender equity has been a mixed blessing. For some schools, more girls playing sports has been a saving grace for school spirit (another pocket of resistance, the Mother McAuley-Marist game between two girls volleyball powers also draws huge crowds). But the sheer number of games, every night of the week except Sunday, diminishes the importance of the traditional weekend "big game," not to mention the number of potential cheerleaders that girls sports siphons off (just as boys sports siphons off male cheerleaders).
Kids also grow up faster than ever. Alcohol and drug use, as well as sexual activity, begin far earlier than in past generations. Such faux maturity imparts a callous cynicism to children--school spirit just isn't cool.
But experience suggests otherwise. If any two people have earned the right to be cynical, they are Isiah Thomas and Jim Brewer, two of Illinois' greatest basketball players, both from the area's mean streets. Even today, Thomas, with an NCAA championship and two NBA championships on his resume, admits he would trade one of his NBA rings for the state title his fabled Westchester St. Joseph teams of 1978-79 never won.
He told sportswriter Taylor Bell, "We had brought the community together from a racial and social standpoint. We went to school every day and interacted and laughed and played basketball. ... It was the most disappointing loss I ever had in basketball."
Brewer, captain of Proviso East's 1969 state champions, voiced similar sentiment. "It was the most satisfying experience of my life, more than winning a ring in the NBA. I was one of the guys who kept the goal alive throughout a lot of adversity [racial tension in Maywood after the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr.]. Everyone won in that situation, not just the team but the whole community." A teammate recalled, "Winning the 1969 state title was like a godsend. We were fighting one year, whites against blacks, then hugging a year later ... it was a triumph of race relations."
School spirit isn't cool? Indifferent principals and teachers, budget-cutting athletic directors and otherwise occupied parents who let their kids stay home and play Warcraft on Friday night tacitly foster that attitude.
Students work hard to earn a spot on the field or in extracurricular activities such as the marching band, the dance team and the spirit squad. These programs provide a sense of community, improve social skills, help kids stay in school, create college opportunities and add meaning to the high school experience.
Our community leaders, who profess to value those goals, must recast school spirit by funding and supporting these programs. It's a good bet that, even though he and his friends were on perpetual double secret probation, John Blutarsky looks back fondly on his Faber College days.
----------
Cory Franklin is a physician who lives in Wilmette.
Copyright © 2006, Chicago Tribune
http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/opinion/chi-0611010016nov01,0,3286922.story?coll=chi-newsopinioncommentary-hed
The loss of school spirit
By Cory Franklin
Published November 1, 2006
Remember school spirit? That quaint, archaic term from a bygone era of crew cuts, bouffants, cars cruising Main Street and the Beach Boys singing "Be True to Your School." Though pockets of resistance remain, the revolution against school spirit began sometime between the Cold War and the war on terror.
One imagines a poster boy of that revolution, John "Bluto" Blutarsky, John Belushi's "Animal House" persona, hearing the words "school spirit," arching his eyebrows and smashing a beer can against his forehead in contempt.
Once upon a time, weekly high school football and basketball games were the community focal point. The pageantry and marching band added excitement to the football game. The local gym needed the balconies to supplement main-floor seating for basketball crowds.
Enthusiastic students, along with parents and community members, took as much pride in watching classmates who marched or danced as they did in the game.
But the past is a foreign country where they do things differently. Today, attendance at many games is dropping (one pocket of resistance, the St. Rita-Mt. Carmel game between two traditional Chicago football powers, draws huge crowds). The marching band and pom-pom team, if they exist at all, may show up to perform and leave before the game is over. At many schools, pep rallies and cheerleading squads have gone the way of Marshall Field's. All this has the effect of making athletes a separate and distinct caste from their peers, fueling the notorious athletic sense of entitlement. School spirit disappears and the sense of community it fosters ebbs. It's not the only reason kids become alienated during high school but it's one piece of the puzzle.
Today, technology and affluence provide other diversions lacking in human interaction--the Internet, iPod, 500 cable channels (with nothing on) and more automobiles, i.e., more mobility. Social changes and the vanishing nuclear family, evidenced in one-parent households, and working mothers mean fewer adults attending games. Gender equity has been a mixed blessing. For some schools, more girls playing sports has been a saving grace for school spirit (another pocket of resistance, the Mother McAuley-Marist game between two girls volleyball powers also draws huge crowds). But the sheer number of games, every night of the week except Sunday, diminishes the importance of the traditional weekend "big game," not to mention the number of potential cheerleaders that girls sports siphons off (just as boys sports siphons off male cheerleaders).
Kids also grow up faster than ever. Alcohol and drug use, as well as sexual activity, begin far earlier than in past generations. Such faux maturity imparts a callous cynicism to children--school spirit just isn't cool.
But experience suggests otherwise. If any two people have earned the right to be cynical, they are Isiah Thomas and Jim Brewer, two of Illinois' greatest basketball players, both from the area's mean streets. Even today, Thomas, with an NCAA championship and two NBA championships on his resume, admits he would trade one of his NBA rings for the state title his fabled Westchester St. Joseph teams of 1978-79 never won.
He told sportswriter Taylor Bell, "We had brought the community together from a racial and social standpoint. We went to school every day and interacted and laughed and played basketball. ... It was the most disappointing loss I ever had in basketball."
Brewer, captain of Proviso East's 1969 state champions, voiced similar sentiment. "It was the most satisfying experience of my life, more than winning a ring in the NBA. I was one of the guys who kept the goal alive throughout a lot of adversity [racial tension in Maywood after the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr.]. Everyone won in that situation, not just the team but the whole community." A teammate recalled, "Winning the 1969 state title was like a godsend. We were fighting one year, whites against blacks, then hugging a year later ... it was a triumph of race relations."
School spirit isn't cool? Indifferent principals and teachers, budget-cutting athletic directors and otherwise occupied parents who let their kids stay home and play Warcraft on Friday night tacitly foster that attitude.
Students work hard to earn a spot on the field or in extracurricular activities such as the marching band, the dance team and the spirit squad. These programs provide a sense of community, improve social skills, help kids stay in school, create college opportunities and add meaning to the high school experience.
Our community leaders, who profess to value those goals, must recast school spirit by funding and supporting these programs. It's a good bet that, even though he and his friends were on perpetual double secret probation, John Blutarsky looks back fondly on his Faber College days.
----------
Cory Franklin is a physician who lives in Wilmette.
Copyright © 2006, Chicago Tribune