standard eyes-ed

Seems most blogging and commentary these days centers on parallels or analogies, so here's another one for the books.

Last July I set out an adventure. Armed with my smartphone (equipped with lime green headphones and a nothing short of magical app that would track me via GPS), a sparkly new pair of sneaks with some sort of thigh tightening technology built right in, and sheer determination; I jogged all the way to my mailbox and back- without stopping. And lived to tell about it. Barely. Sweating profusely and gasping for each ragged breath, I had traveled a whole half a mile! Hot diggety dog! That was a feat not conquered since middle school. Thus began my love/abhor relationship with plodding, er- jogging, and eventually running.

Running was a great way for me to burn those calories consumed during the afternoon doldrums of the school day; i.e. any sugary snack I could pilfer. It also afforded me time to reflect on life, have meditation (albeit the heavy breathing variety). I even joined a very fulfilling bible study at my church geared toward running the race God has set before us. The activity gave me a unique opportunity to fellowship with my Lord.

And eventually, I sought out an official race in which to run. What was it about being timed and participating in activities with throngs of total strangers that was so appealing? Validation? Pride? Curiosity? The cool t-shirt to prove I took part? Ah, competition. The allure for some is intoxicating; it propels us to train, work tirelessly, strive to achieve a goal. And for what in return? The sense of accomplishment, and perhaps, if performance ranks high enough; reward(s). At my first organized 5K, the goal was simply to finish and not pass out, be trampled, or eek-be last! I crossed the finish line (with many still behind me) and felt exuberance, accompanied by a tinge of exhaustion. Since the race was in August and I was drowning in my own sweat, I didn't stick around to find out the results. Yet in the back of my mind, I couldn't help but wonder-how did I place? How good was I? How many others did I surpass?   Driving home I assured myself I  had done my best-accomplishing my fastest miles to date; and that it didn't matter how I placed. Or did it?

Fast forward to Spring of 2012. I was preparing for multiple timed events, all on which  I hoped to achieve personal bests. A 5K, a 10K and gulp, the STAAR reading test that would be administered my 6th-grade students at Edna Junior High. The 5k went well, occurring on a brisk March morning. Completing with an adrenaline-charged personal best, I thought: Victory! Eh...Didn't make top three in my age group. Really thought I had been among the fastest of the late thirtysomethings. Oh well, on to bigger and better. April brought a 10k race to Victoria. Over 6 miles. Whew. Entering it again with thoughts of " I just wanna finish". This event would be "chipped" timed, meaning, each runner would have a microchip attached to his/her race bib and quite accurately track and time each runner as he or she stepped on a computerized mat. I paced myself, for fear of passing out or hitting the proverbial wall. As the course came to an end,  I propelled my body miraculously into a sprint while Katy Perry blared that I was a "Firework". My running app displayed that I had averaged a pace of under 10 minutes a mile. Was that standard? I had trained relentlessly and felt a surge of excitement that I had conquered this milestone of the running world. That is until I logged on to the site that posted all the official times. And places. Talk about a deflation. Only a handful of people trailed me. Sigh. Hadn't I done my best? Was there anything I would have done differently? Admittedly, no, I don't think pushing myself any harder would have been beneficial for my body or, most likely, those standing by to administer medical treatment. I had been focused on the goal and worked toward it with intensity that I felt would allow me to feel successful.

Those of you in the turbulent world of education and high stakes testing may begin to the see the point at which I am finally arriving. After several expectant weeks following the STAAR administration, some elusive documents graced my desktop. The raw score results of my sixth graders were there in front of me. I raced to the calculator to arrive at the number correct out of number possible to quickly see who had garnered a 70 percent, by most accounts a passing "standard".  This information was, or is, of course inconclusive, at present, since Texas educators this year will not know until months from now what the passing standard actually is. We don't know how we actually "placed".  Still my heart began to sink with each name.( Well, not all names, but quite more than I had anticipated.)  Fear all year long as to the difficulty and probable outcome of the test had been discussed and instilled in most teachers. Yet we trained diligently, we had sweat daily through our skills n' drills. We knew how long the race was to be, or rather the maximum time allotted, yet remained at a disadvantage not knowing exactly how the course would be charted. We all assumed there would be some pretty steep hills and predicted parts might break off into unfamiliar trails, so to speak.

Stamina was also going to be an issue in this feat. While I knew this a teacher, I also knew the value of pacing one's self. I was aware that trying to maintain a speed too accelerated would not guarantee success.  Still the students were told and shown what would be seen along the race and shorter practice runs were completed. Race day strategies even explored.  And even though we were all unsure how the territory was to be charted, we hoped that our training sessions would be enough to see the students through to the end. As a professional, I have a vested interested in the results of my participants. As their "coach", I hate to feel defeat for myself and them. Their performance is ultimately a reflection of my competence. As the students crossed their finish lines on April 24th, many felt like I did at the end of a race. It wasn't always easy or fun, but it was DONE and a valiant (fingers crossed) effort had been put forth.

So the results are still unofficial, not yet uploaded for world to view.  Do I judge success by how I feel the race was run; by the preparation that was endured prior to the big day?  Do I feel defeat because the numbers look bleak and had hoped would have been higher? By what standard is success measured? Had I hoped to surpass that? Absolutely.  Do I hope to someday run a mile in under 7 minutes? Hmmm. At the risk of sounding pessimistic, that most likely will not happen. I would be quite frustrated if someone expected that of me, especially since I have not yet mastered an 8 minute mile. More specifically- since my body just isn't cut out for that speed... regardless of the ( oh I am gulping as I am typing) "rigor" of my training. 

I will not give up, I will continue to run the race set before me as God has planned.  I will run even if I don't finish first or win a medal. I will teach even if test scores don't reflect the best performance. With prayer and persistence, how can we not be winners?