The Mercy of Breakfast

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Unmerciful, the morning breaks on heads

Unkempt with dreams and eyes as bleared as sheets

Upon which coverlids flick dumbly back

In disarray of textile and of mind.

Unmerciful, the morning showers dawn

And song and beauty down upon men's backs

And work-bound feet before their eyes can lift

Or hearts can pause to sing with its refrain.

Unmerciful, the morning brings the day

And call to draw the world along with hands

And spurs and laws and rakes and winning words:

The trappings of vocation, and of hope.

So thank you for the sacrament of strength:

A silent breakfast in the rosy light

That rises as your word in mouth and heart

And man stares uncompanioned at his thoughts.

A homely eucharist, this cud that feeds

Our limbs and every small obedience

Written in the book of allotted days

Till joy comes, and the shadows flee away.

In Defense of Trophies

This week I ran across a link in Becky Keller's Google status (hi Becky) that led me to an article about trophies.  It was inspired by an e-card on Pinterest: "I'm afraid of a world run by adults who were never spanked as kids and got trophies just for participating."

The author, Kathleen Quiring, says:

I have medals, pennants, plaques and certificates for every conceivable elementary-school achievement, from track to public speaking to spelling. These turned out not to be very good indicators of my future as a leader and world-changer...Most of us trophy-winners, as adults, don't have much in the way of imagination, character, or practical skills...In fact, researcher Karen Arnold, after spending more than fifteen years following the careers of high school valedictorians, actually concluded that these people are not the people to look to for creative breakthroughs or becoming notable leaders in a particular area. They just know how to do school.

Well, I can identify with some of this. I have two boxes of such mementos sitting on my shelf waiting be gone through, because my mom didn't want to store them on her shelves anymore. Part of my reason for procrastinating is that to touch those boxes I have to make a decision about whether all of that stuff means anything now. (I'm leaning no, and not just because of a grouchy article.)

The lady goes on:

I grew up to be rather spineless and lazy, lacking creativity and ingenuity.I give up easily when things get hard, I have trouble relating to people who are different from me, and I've failed to do or produce a single original thing in my life. You don’t want the world run by people like me.

That, obviously, is where she lets her hammer fall. Overachievers are just good at jumping through the hoops of self-importance. And self-importance makes them unremarkable. "And of all these sinners I am the chief."

I will gladly attest that bucking the regime of overachievement in some way is one of the best things you can ever do for yourself. If you never stop measuring yourself by other people's expectations, you cannot know what you're made for. (As with many crises, it's best to have this out in college or some other haven where it won't seriously affect your living expenses.) But I hope we can see the irony here.

I think Ms. Quiring plays herself false. It's impossible to evaluate her claim of failing to do anything original in life, so the reader has no choice but to feel vaguely bad for her. Then she uses sympathy against us and stakes a claim to authority. "You don't want the world run by people like me" is both a statement about how the world should be run and a claim to authority in making it. Her conclusion is even more blatant: "I'd much rather live in a world where there were no trophies." Ms. Quiring is asking that we listen to her because she is mediocre; in effect, she wants a trophy for self-awareness.

I have no intention of giving it to her. Self-awareness is good, but it is not great; it's also not enough to resolve questions of this magnitude. Ms. Quiring recognizes that great things are achieved by people who suffer and struggle through failure and rejection; she does not recognize that abolishing rewards would abolish the very values that make great things intelligible. In other words, she ignores the need for criteria and distinction.

The great honors of the world--the laurel wreath, the gold medal, knighthood, beatification, the Purple Heart, the Nobel Prize, even the Triple Crown--partake of immortality. They single out certain achievements as remarkable and unite people around events and heroes. Even local prizes like a blue ribbon at the county fair, first place in the demolition derby, or scholarships bestowed by the Elks express something of community values like ingenuity or homespun usefulness.

The trouble with trophies isn't that they exist, but that we've turned them into carrots and sticks for a host of activities that aren't truly competitive (like handwriting) or that we could just as well do for fun (like spelling bees). Carrots and sticks make for a very different society than trophies do, so it's no surprise that the winners of unimportant trophies feel lied to about both work and play. The remedy is not to do away with trophies, unless you really do want a society of carrots and sticks--i.e., no work and no leisure.

The remedy is to turn trophies back into trophies and do away with lying about them. This means making distinctions about achievement. I don't think we should all become snobs who are so obsessed with Mozart that we can't tell Johnny "good job" after his recital. But we should cultivate a sense of proportion. Many thousands of the indebted, unemployed humanities majors living in their parents' basements right now would have been better served if someone had encouraged their more "plebeian" interests in the trades, interior design, and outdoor sports, rather than assuming right along with them that the liberal arts are for everyone. Obtaining an academic degree is good, but the reverse is not shameful. Is that so painful to admit?

Insisting on distinctions and exceptionalism will ruffle some feathers, but there's no other way to have an intelligible society or, as Ms. Quiring points out, an intelligible life. The truth has a way of sticking up for itself in the long run. Our choice is whether it will claim victims in doing so (ask the jobless generation). We can reduce the pain of these massive social corrections by agreeing with the truth in the first place: that jumping successfully through the hoops of life is good and desirable, but not ultimate and not in itself great. Not everyone will pursue distinction and not all who do will achieve it. And there's no shame in living simply.

Until we restore some sense of proportion about this, the Quirings of the world will continue to be angry and confused.