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The Dangers of Confident Idiocy

We are idiots. Every single one of us. Not all the time, but enough of the time. Most of us don’t intend to be idiots; we just are. Because humans are prone to make mistakes. Humans are prone to make poor choices. Humans are prone to indecision that leads to negative consequences. Even if you’re smart, well-educated, mature, and wise, you have and/or will come across a moment that you will look back on someday and declare, “Boy, I sure was an idiot when _______.” Possibly more than one. It’s really part of the human condition. Idiocy can be the very thing that leads us to wisdom, IF we’re willing to learn, to grow, to accept our own limitations and either work to overcome them or accept help. But that can be a tough thing, “willing to…” In a country like the United States, where so many in the populace pride themselves on a myth of self-reliance and individualism, a “by my own bootstraps” mindset that often ignores and avoids admitting mistakes and seeking help, it’s no wonder that wisdom and maturity end up in short supply. What replaces them is often unwarranted confidence mixed with a large dose of ignorance, or worse, just a tiny bit of knowledge. It becomes an almost poisonous mix that isn’t likely to lead to anything good. And the confident idiot that decides to forge ahead armed only with their own self-assurance and misconceptions tends to wreak havoc on themselves and possibly others.

We have all met these people. My own life has been littered with them, among family, co-workers, acquaintances, and even, occasionally, people I call friends. Although to be fair, I try to be a good friend who gently challenges my friends’ notions when they’re confident in their own idiocy. Because friends don’t let friends be idiots. Friends don’t let friends embark alone on some project for which they are massively unqualified. A friend honestly asks, “Do you have the background and experience to make that work?” Friends don’t watch each other looking pale and worn out, stopping to catch their breath while simply walking, and say nothing, especially if it’s something unusual. Friends don’t let friends ignore the pain in their side, or in their knees, or especially in their head. A friend notices the change in behavior and says, “Maybe you should see a doctor.” Better to be safe than sorry, to be prepared than overmatched, to seek help when it’s appropriate.

Health issues are commonly where we all experience, and possibly engage in, confident idiocy. When’s the last time you had a physical exam complete with tests of at least your blood and urine? I know that might be a sensitive question, but the answer often reveals this behavior pattern. I will admit that I had been resistant to the annual physical exam prior to entering my 50s, but I am happy to say I got over my trepidation, found a doctor who I believed would give me the kind of direct, no-nonsense advice I need, and committed to regular checkups. More importantly, I follow his advice and make the adjustments to diet, exercise, lifestyle, etc., that he recommends. I’m not going to be the guy who assumes “when you go to the doctor, it’s guaranteed they’ll find something wrong.” I’m not going to be the guy who hears the doctor but only listens selectively because “I was a pre-med major during my freshman year in college.” (Who-knows-how many years ago…) I’m not going to be the guy who arbitrarily decides that all doctors are just stooges of big pharma, looking to prescribe unnecessary medications. Sure, if you think your doctor is over-medicating you, then seek out someone new. But drawing conclusions about all doctors, especially if you have no medical training, is irresponsible and irrational. And no, watching stuff about medical professionals on YouTube doesn’t qualify as medical training. Consulting a doctor only when you’re sick, ignoring regular exams, and especially ignoring standard medical advice isn’t a smart path to a healthy and productive life. Why ignore or even actively defy the opinion(s) of experts who have spent years training and practicing their craft, which is designed to help you?

Therein lies a key to the confident idiot. Expertise. Or rather, lack of expertise. The confident idiot doesn’t subscribe to needing experts. They don’t think they need assistance. They don’t want your fancy “book learning.” “They’ve done just fine with their finances, or their health, or their emotions, or their vehicles, or their home, or, or, or…” And therefore, they believe they have no need of “so-called experts.” Anytime you hear someone use that phrase, you can expect to encounter confident idiocy, because the phrase “so-called” intentionally attempts to belittle the experts, thereby elevating the apparent knowledge of the confident idiot, at least in his/her mind. “So-called” is nothing more than an attempt to dismiss expertise — of the doctor, the nurse, the physician’s assistant, the attorney, the legal assistant, the teacher, the principal, counselor, the therapist, the auto mechanic, the industrial engineer, the architect, the urban planner, the government worker, the realtor, the HVAC technician, the plumber, the roofer, the musician, the videographer, the photographer, the sound engineer, the contractor, the electrician, the construction worker…heck, even the server at a restaurant. Think of any profession that requires a measurable amount of training and experience, wherein the individual develops any level of expertise on a subject over time, and there is a confident idiot out there who will refer to that person as a “so-called expert.” That’s the mental game that’s played. And in this era of social media and YouTube, too often the mental game leads to content creation designed to belittle expertise on a global scale. And confident idiocy spreads like a virus.

That virus does damage, and plenty of it. Sometimes the damage seems minor, like when an obstinate husband insists that he knows where he’s going, so he refuses to ask anyone for directions or consult GPS and ultimately gets lost, or at least arrives late to the destination. Sometimes the damage is major, like the parent who rejects routine vaccinations on behalf of her children for eradicated diseases like measles, only to spark an outbreak of measles later on. “But I saw a video on YouTube explaining the dangers of childhood vaccines.” What did your doctor say? “I don’t trust doctors.” Uh-huh. Sometimes the damage is downright catastrophic, like the lifelong smoker who refuses to quit, who eats unhealthy much of the time, and who doesn’t heed tiny warning signs until it’s too late. “If only we knew.” You could’ve known, except for the confident idiocy that assumed everything would just be fine and avoided routines scans and checkups. Sometimes the damage has a ripple effect, like the parent who insists on “home-schooling” her child despite being wholly unqualified to do so, then attempts to enroll that child as a high school freshman only to learn the student is several years behind academically. “Can you still help her get into a good college?” Let’s try to ensure she can pass high school classes first, let alone graduate. College is the least of her worries right now. Or perhaps it’s the person who died without any kind of will, or a will that hasn’t been properly prepared and/or vetted by a licensed attorney, so the estate goes through more hassles and legal fees than necessary. All because a confident idiot just decided that attorneys’ fees are merely attempts to siphon off cash with no benefit. Uh-huh. Instead, that person passes more expensive burdens onto the survivors in the name of self-reliance. “I can do it just fine.” Can you?

And therein lies the real question: How well can you, the person in the mirror, succeed without help, and in what ventures? Maybe you are the kind of person who can learn with incredible ease, and a few trustworthy videos online and perhaps a book or two are all you need to learn what you need. Or maybe you’re not. Or maybe you have no idea what you really need. I’ve observed both types of people many times, both in the education world and in the voiceover world. And the truth is, even the people who can figure it out easily on their own usually shouldn’t because they don’t have to. There’s always someone available to help, and they’re not always cost-prohibitive, especially when you consider the greater cost of insisting on individuality, failing spectacularly, and being forced to seek help, sometimes in desperation. For every person who is adept at using YouTube to figure out how to complete a complex project, there are many more that mess it up and spend more money calling in an expert to clean up the mess. The education world is riddled with teachers who struggled or failed unnecessarily because they refused help. The voiceover world is riddled with talents who were forced to work harder because they refused to seek quality coaching and/or sent out a terrible DIY demo. But seeking out help when you don’t even know you might need it requires a significant amount of introspection. It requires you to take a truly honest look in the mirror, at your own skills, at your own experience, and at your own goals, and admitting that maybe, just maybe…you, too, are an idiot in the context at hand. But at the very least, you don’t have to project false confidence about yourself in spite of it.

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When It’s Not About You

It’s been a fascinating two weeks since my last blog post, with several happenings that might seem disparate at first, but which have elicited some thoughts for me when juxtaposed against each other. I’m still basking in the glow of graduation, one of my favorite live-announce jobs of the year. Father’s Day is approaching, so I take heart in having helped raise two wonderful young men, and I know that one of the favorite annual traditions of my earlier years is also near: drum major camp. (More on that further down the post.) Against the backdrop of those very positive things lie some decidedly difficult observations. First, I came across a fellow PA announcer who posted video of himself introducing the visiting team in a comical, derogatory manner, which is 100% disrespectful, not just to the visiting team, but to the game on the field. I came across another fellow PA announcer who recently booked a high-profile job and posted a photo of an actor on-stage while referencing “my biggest stage yet.” And just this week, I learned of someone who passed away suddenly in his sleep, and now a family member of his is trying to upstage everyone’s shock and grief apparently to hog the proverbial spotlight. What do all of these more troublesome events have in common? Call it what you wish: Egomania. Narcissism. Solipsism. Conceit. Self-Infatuation. Vanity. Characteristics that sit in stark contrast to what makes both voiceover and education fulfilling.

This post was originally intended to discuss my thoughts on and memories of drum major camp, so let’s begin there. Forty years ago (!!!), I auditioned for and captured a position as Drum Major with the University of Texas at Arlington Marching Band. It was the spring following the cancellation of football at UTA, in preparation for the band’s first season as “Ambassadors of the University” later in the fall. I’ve written about it before in two parts, so I won’t spend any time in this space providing background. But I can say that this achievement literally changed my life. I had initially planned on leaving Arlington to attend college, but seizing this honor meant I would stay in-town and attend college while living at home. Over time, my involvement with the band would eventually take me toward the world of voiceover. But before that, my role as drum major would lead me to teach the UTA Drum Major & Leadership Camp, eventually inspiring me to enter the world of education. The UTA Drum Major Camp began then, and still begins, on the Sunday coinciding with Father’s Day. It’s a week filled with hard work on a variety of topics pertaining to the role of the high school drum major: conducting, marching instruction, leadership & group dynamics, and showmanship. Mornings outside in the heat working on physical activities, afternoons inside for conducting and discussion, evenings featuring light work and usually something more fun. I taught exclusively at the UTA camp for 3 years before expanding my involvement to include East Texas State University’s (now East Texas A&M) camp. I eventually stopped working the ETSU camp, but I remained with the UTA camp for a total of 16 years, including serving as the Principal Instructor for 8 years. For those final 8 years, I was in-charge of developing a revised curriculum that brought the camp into the 21st century. You might be surprised how much the typical high school marching band evolved from 1986 to 2001, and the nature of a band’s leadership had to evolve with it.

I learned at drum major camp that I love teaching. I love inspiring students to find skills and strength deep within themselves. I love breaking down complex ideas for students to assist them in accessing and mastering those concepts. I love helping students tap into and hone physical abilities they didn’t previously have. I love exploring both philosophical and practical approaches to leadership, and assisting students as they determine what will work for their personality and/or the personalities within their ensemble. I love the camaraderie of working with an elite team of instructors, collaborating in ways that enhance the learning of an entire group. Many of the cool buzzwords and ideals that you hear from educational administrators when they discuss teaching and learning were right there in action for me at, of all places, drum major camp. It made sense, really. High school bands sent us their best leaders, we hired people who were excellent leaders and teachers in their own right, and everyone gathered together for an unforgettable week growing together. Students didn’t just learn; they bonded with leaders from other schools, with so-called “competitors.” It probably sounds too-good-to-be-true, but it actually wasn’t. It was 100% a fulfilling week, every year. Even after I started teaching in a “normal” classroom, where I wasn’t always working with the best and brightest, I looked forward to drum major camp because it showed me just how cool and productive the education process can be when bright, committed individuals come together and cooperate in service to something bigger.

One underlying idea during every camp was the drum major’s true role in the ensemble. Sure, the average observer of a band sees the drum major as the public leader. The student(s) wear a different uniform, they salute the judges, they stand on the podium and conduct, they show all the visible signs of leadership and showmanship. But the real value of a drum major to a band is established behind the scenes, in how the drum major carries him/herself off the podium, in rehearsal, during warmup, on the bus, at school. Some of the most critical leadership a drum major can exhibit might happen on a random Tuesday in September, when the band is struggling through an afternoon rehearsal on a day that’s hotter than it should be. The public never sees that. But the drum major sets the tone for how everyone in the band is expected to act. When I led the UTA camp, we even had an oath: “I am the band. What I do, the band will do. What I say, the band will say. What I am the band will be.” And even though the oath literally says, “I am the band,” the irony is that if you’re the drum major, it is never about you. It’s about the band. Sure, the drum major gets to be out-front, salute the judges, acknowledge the crowd, etc. But a drum major who looks phenomenal doing the showy things in front of a poorly-performing ensemble doesn’t garner nearly as much respect as a drum major who might be less proficient as a showman leading an ensemble that performs impeccably. In the end, the drum major cares most about the show on the field, and the performers creating it. That’s what it’s about.

You know who else should care most about the show on the field? The PA Announcer. I’ve written about this before. The person announcing a contest, or a halftime, or any other event has one job: Make the ensemble on the field look good. Speak at the right time. Pronounce any names correctly. Show same enthusiasm for this group as you have for every other group. It doesn’t matter if it’s the defending champions of this festival, or even of the state marching band contest, or simply a small school performing its first contest show in five years; the ensemble on the field deserves your professionalism in this moment. Those students deserve your best work. And yet, no one actually came to hear you speak; they came to see and hear those students perform. Now, let’s take those same principles and apply them to a sporting event…High school softball. College baseball. Pro basketball. International football. There may be 70 people in the stands, or 70,000. They came for the event, not you. To your credit, you booked the job and are in the booth, but make no mistake: you are decidedly not “on-stage.” People actually pay to see the stage actor. For this event, they paid for an experience. You were hired by the organizers and ultimately can contribute to the fan experience IF you take the right approach. Are you exposed? Absolutely. Just an open mic and perhaps a script. So don’t suck. Say the names correctly. Do your best work. But realize this: Only a chosen few in the crowd will make note of how good the PA announcer was. Most attendees or viewers will only remember you if you’re bad, or if you do something disrespectful, like intentionally trying to make fun of the visiting team by playing cartoon music under their introductions, using some silly voice, or saying their names in a mocking style. They might notice you if you deliberately call attention to yourself, but that won’t be a good thing. It’s not about you unless you make it about you. And if you make it about you, the memories made will be unpleasant.

You know when else memories become unpleasant if you make it about you? Milestones of living. Often times, those are graduations, weddings, holidays, or other big occasions. Sometimes, it’s death, and funerals. And I get it: everyone grieves differently, and sometimes irrationally. In the case of the death I mentioned at the outset of this post, the primary emotion of the family is basically shock. This death was unexpected; the cause of death has been revealed by medical professionals, but no one knew beforehand about any impending risks or problems. Everyone in that family is simply trying to process the event more than anything right now. [This section now hidden to protect some fragile feelings.] … It simply happened. Right now, the concern is about the untimely death itself, and the immediate family working through the aftermath. Read the room, respect the situation, and above all, don’t make it about you.

Now, this post isn’t meant to suggest it is never about you. There’s certainly plenty of room for things like self-care. Take time off from work, get that message, have that dinner with friends, go on that vacation. Do something for you, especially if you’re working a daily grind for a long time. And there are definitely days, and events, and situations, where each of us, as individuals, truly do “take the stage.” We may literally star in a show. We get married. We receive awards and achieve other milestones. We celebrate birthdays and anniversaries. And on those occasions, yes, it is entirely about you. And of course, we live in a capitalist economy, where self-interest is the driving force behind our economic choices. But capitalism has always been about “win-win,” where both parties in a transaction receive benefit. Mutual self-interest generally means cooperation and collective growth. In the past half-century, the system appears to have evolved to a point where self-interest comes at the expense of others; a “win-lose” mentality. And too often, we seem to be living in an era where people seek the spotlight in a gratuitous or performative manner. They misinterpret circumstances or ignore them outright in an attempt to gain notoriety. For attention. For social media likes. To “build the brand.” Or perhaps because the individual is simply selfish and entitled. Perhaps All of the Above. Either way, I am not here for it, at all. Individualism isn’t absolute. Branding has its place, but sometimes that place is elsewhere. Sometimes self-interest and self-advocacy interfere with what’s necessary. That’s the hallmark of both of the careers which I have pursued. In education, it’s obvious, because the teacher, administrator, counselor, or other individual involved in the profession does their work to serve the students. An educator on a power trip or a journey for recognition is typically bad at the job, because the job is about the students. Similarly, a voice actor who is primarily interested in the limelight is looking in the wrong place. Voiceover is about the message, the story, the event…in other words, anything but the VO talent. The voice actor serves the project and brings life to it without ever overshadowing it. I think that’s a major reason I gravitated toward VO as I wrapped up three decades in education. I’d rather play a part in service to something bigger, because it provides a great outlook on life. When the point is the overall group, or someone else, or something bigger than yourself, taking a step back and simply serving offers far more satisfaction than looking for a way to seize any spotlight.

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The Serenity and Insanity of Summer

Ah, summer. Evenings by the lake. Trips to exotic lands, or national parks, or simply to visit family and friends. Baseball. The French Open, Wimbledon, and the U.S. Open. This year, the World Cup. Sleeping in. Idyllic times spent simply enjoying. For teachers and students, it’s all about the chance to relax, refresh, and regroup between one school year and the next. Phineas and Ferb know all about it. One of the greatest things about any school year is that it ends, as I wrote recently. The general nature of each school year is not unlike anything with a seasonal approach: The “in-season” time is filled with intensity and activity, and at times it may seem like things are teetering (perhaps on the brink of something?) and unstable. And yet, despite any adversity or tension found at given times in the previous ten months, the end always arrives. Summer is at hand.

Sure, astronomical summer isn’t officially here until the Summer Solstice later this month, and that’s fine. Frankly, those remaining 3 weeks of astronomical spring actually improve the phenomenon, because it allows everyone a chance to appreciate the days as they continue to lengthen. Stay out later, soak in the sun as it extends to its latest point, setting at nearly 9:00pm. If your life has been consumed by school for the past 10 months, whether as a student or as a teacher, right now, it’s not. Get out there and live. Do all the things for which you don’t have time during the school year. Read something you genuinely want to read, perhaps on a beach, or maybe at the park or even in your backyard. Listen to music. Play music. Play a sport. Just play, and stop worrying so much about what you have to do — assignments, grading, planning. Immerse yourself in things you enjoy. Therein lies the beauty of summer, particularly for teachers who’ve been on-edge for around 250 of the past 280 days (allowing for holidays). After the relative fervor of a given school year, the release of simply existing — no commute, no lessons, no activities, no updating Canvas, no meetings, no e-mails — can be downright cathartic.

Before you say, “Teachers have it easy; I’m at my job every day in the summer and only get 2 weeks of vacation each year,” step back a second and realize that your job is probably not nearly like teaching. Everyone that works 50 weeks a year without a week off for Thanksgiving, two weeks for Christmas and New Year’s, and a week for Spring Break also isn’t having to deal with the pressure of the school year, the deadlines, the children, or the parents. Anyone who goes into teaching does so with an interest in helping children of various ages, but even for someone who “loves kids,” 36 or more calendar weeks of working with them — and dealing their parents — can be exhausting. You have to keep them safe and engaged while trying to impart some knowledge, wisdom, critical thinking skills, and content that you hope will last in their brains beyond the next 72 hours. Tack on test prep, extracurricular activities, and general well-being, and we’re talking a whole different demand on your psyche than the average 9-to-5 job.

And don’t even start with the nonsense of “summers off,” or the even more insulting “3 Reasons for Teaching: June, July, August.” Take August completely off the table, because teachers will already be gearing up for and starting the new school year during that month. Technically, the teachers at your kid’s school are currently unemployed (officially termed off-contract) even though most have received what’s called a “letter of reasonable assurance” that they will be employed again when they are asked to report for the coming school year. “They’re getting paid to sit around all summer.” FALSE. Teacher contracts are based on a daily rate multiplied by the number of workdays, usually the instructional days plus five (for “staff development” prior to the beginning of the year). Daily Rate x Duty Days = Total Salary, which is divided by 12 to determine the monthly paycheck. So the teacher “sitting around” as you read this is receiving deferred payment during the months of June, July, and August. They will report this coming August but will not actually be paid for the time worked in August 2026 until after September 1. So spare me the notion that your tax dollars are paying them for nothing. They’re simply patient enough to accept the payment after it’s remained in the public coffers for an extra month or two. Beyond that, teachers are also expected to seek out and earn “professional development” (PD) time on their own during the summer. Sometimes districts host their own conferences during the summer to allow these requirements to be fulfilled, but the bottom line is that teachers have to seek out their opportunities, at their own expense.

Having said that, I still consider summer to be a wonderful respite for teachers…at least through June and July. Sure, they’ve got to earn their PD time, but they actually get to choose where and how to earn them. It’s not always a matter of heading to a district venue for 2 days of “death by PowerPoint.” When I was a classroom teacher, I used to attend a 2-day conference offered by the Federal Reserve Bank of Dallas. Two days heading into downtown Dallas (and learning to appreciate my own short commute to campus), featuring excellent food and knowledgeable speakers while communing with my colleagues from other places. I always enjoyed listening to speakers from the world of economic research talking content, as opposed to educators talking pedagogy or classroom management. Honestly, it hardly felt like work, so I never felt like my summer was interrupted; this was simply part of the summertime release for me. Even during years when I spent an entire week at TCU or UTA attending a Summer AP Institute, I still felt like I was recharging myself personally and professionally. The serenity of summer remained.

It actually wasn’t until I moved into administration that I realized that summer also holds a fair level of insanity for some educators. It turns out, some districts don’t offer much freedom for their teachers when deciding how to earn PD hours. Some districts require teachers to participate in their district-led PD conference. For someone who was used to enjoying my little high-tone events at the Dallas Fed, this realization was jarring. Are we really expecting teachers to spend an additional two days listening to the same central administrators who cannot keep their attention at PD meetings during the school year? “Oh, we’ll have guest speakers.” I suppose that’s true, but the guest speakers are often central administrators from other districts…who also cannot keep their teachers’ attention at PD meetings during the school year. (Many of these people have no clue about the principles I outlined in my post about presentation skills last year.) Sometimes, the guest speakers are independent consultants, but that can be a very mixed bag. For every guest consultant who’s engaging, there are at least three that are either still “finding their voice” or are just not very good. You get what you pay for, especially when it comes to guest speakers on topics like curriculum, teaching strategies, and lesson planning. Good Luck. And yet, some districts still schedule these sessions and require them of their teachers. Insane.

Want to ramp up the insanity even more? Let’s talk about administrators, who get paid a higher annual salary, yes, but often only because their contracts include more days than those of teachers. A teacher may work 180 days (175 instructional + 5 extra). An administrator might be contracted to work 210 days, or maybe even 226 or more. So your typical assistant principal, or someone in central office, is NOT off work right now; they’re on-campus literally as you read this. What are they doing? Excellent question. Often, they’re working on things that weren’t quite finished during the school year itself — cleaning up records, managing files, day-to-day office duties. They may be working on projects related to the physical status of the building that are best handled without students and teachers roaming the halls all day. Many administrators are working on the campus master schedule for the coming year, processing new enrollments, planning for August staff development sessions, and similar activities. Still…are there days when a given school administrator is essentially staring at the ceiling waiting for the day to end? No one likes to admit it openly, but everyone knows it happens. “Well, they should be fired for wasting my tax dollars.” Calm down. It’s the nature of nearly all work that is compensated on clock hours, whether in public school or at a store inside your local mall. Sometimes time simply passes without massive productivity. When you consider that some of these administrators are actually making a lower daily rate than some teachers and only have a higher salary due to the extra days, it shouldn’t surprise or anger you. Also, factor in all the extra duties and sh** these administrators contend with during the school year. Having said that, the requirements of many of these contracts is still insane.

But the supreme insanity of summer is found in a place you probably already expect, if you’ve previously read my blog: Testing. Yes, Virginia, the State of Texas requires student assessment every summer. The good news is that the old Student Success Initiative (SSI) for elementary and junior high/middle school students has now been retired for 5 years. There was a time when students in Grades 5 and 8 would be required to pass all their STAAR tests for automatic promotion to Grades 6 and 9. So they would test in April, again in May if unsuccessful, then again in June if still unsuccessful. The campus would be required to jump through hoops…“provide accelerated instruction” between test administrations. If a student failed for a third time in June, a Grade Placement Committee would be convened (to maintain the illusion of standards), and nearly every time, the student would still be promoted. TEA suspended SSI in Summer 2016 due to problems with unreliable results from the vendor, then discontinued it altogether in 2021. Hooray! Trouble is, the specter of June STAAR still looms thanks to End-Of-Course (EOC).

I’ve railed about EOC twice before. December EOCs are a pain for campuses during what should be a happier time. Spring EOCs are a necessary evil, I suppose, although they beget IGCs. But June EOCs? If you thought administrator summer days are a waste, wait until you consider June EOCs. The theory behind June EOCs actually sounds positive on its face: Offer students an additional opportunity to fulfill EOC graduation requirements (i.e., pass the test at the minimum standard), so they get three chances a year instead of just two. The June test administration is strictly optional; students can opt to wait until December for the next chance. It sounds easy enough, but the reality is that offering the test again in June leads to consumption of additional resources. Campuses have to arrange for rooms to be open and air-conditioned for student testing. Because teachers are off-contract, they have to be hired at an hourly rate to administer the test, which is untimed, so that can add up immensely. Because students are coming to the building, the campus has to arrange transportation for those who need it, as well as meals. Since students who failed a STAAR test probably require remedial instruction, most districts arrange some kind of summer tutorials, which require rooms, and A/C, and staff, and transportation, and meals, as well. In the midst of what should be the serenity of summer, a veritable cottage industry of instruction and testing sprouts during the early weeks of June, siphoning off funds that might’ve been used elsewhere, and culminating in a STAAR EOC administration that will yield minimal gains, if any, for the campus. 

I know all of this first-hand, because I’ve administered a June EOC, I’ve supervised administration of the test, and I’ve analyzed the results from June EOCs at a district and campus level. I’ve served as the District Testing Coordinator in the past and supported each campus as they determine the best method for planning and administering the test for their students and staff. I’ve also worked as a Campus Testing Coordinator where the district insisted on consolidating retesters from several campuses and testing them all in a single building, despite the additional logistical headaches it created. I’ve collaborated with other administrators in planning and administration of testing, trying to respect their time and efforts while knowing they don’t really want to do this, but they’re on-contract and basically required to be there. I’ve spent time working with teachers in attendance at district-mandated training and during the test, as they question their life choices despite knowing they’re getting paid extra to do this. I’ve sent e-mails, placed phone calls, and processed countless students through the test management system du jour to schedule their tests and testing rooms. I’ve compiled and printed more testing-related documents than I care to recall. I’ve even worked with special needs students and their parents, along with specialized staff, to arrange specific testing locations and accommodations for students who qualify. Through all of it, I can tell you, without question, the entire process, especially during the summer is insane. A waste of time and energy.

“It’s certainly not a waste for the students that pass.” Sure, I understand the starfish-on-the-sand philosophy…for a student who actually shows up ready to work and tries hard on the test, going into the next school year without the looming specter of December EOC, or having to miss instruction to take that infernal test, can be its own reward. I get it, and I appreciate it. At the same time, from a wider perspective, I know that the return on total investment in this exercise is desperately low. See, I forgot to mention above that I’ve also admitted students walking up for testing who don’t even know what test(s) they need, let alone have content knowledge related to them, but whose parents essentially forced them to come take the test. I’ve watched a student run to the doors late, having suffered car trouble on the way to the testing campus, only to have the District Testing Coordinator herself tell the student, “Sorry, we don’t allow any late testers.” (That one really disgusted me, because we had open seats the student could’ve taken.) I’ve seen countless students finish English EOC tests designed to last 2-3 hours within 45 minutes because they barely wrote anything for the Essay. Those scores will not be passing, guaranteed. I’ve even seen a student click through the test blindly, randomly picking answers in 10 minutes, then leave, openly stating he’ll just “take it for real” in December. Yet another parent-forced-me-to-be-here situation. Even when I was District Testing Coordinator in a strong, A-rated district with relatively few June EOC retesters, our best campuses typically saw less than 20% of those students succeed in passing a test during the June administration. A waste. Insanity.

Why are we doing this? For that matter, why do some districts say “we’re going to rewrite curriculum / district assessments / scope and sequence / pacing guides / subject-area projects,” etc. with teaching staff during the summer? The fact is, you’ll NEVER get anyone to do their best work in the summer, whether from students or teachers, even if you’re offering “extra duty pay.” I said it earlier in the post: The school year is intense. It’s exhausting enough that the relative repose for teachers and students alike is necessary. Treating June and July as simply unused, unproductive months that beg for further activity is foolhardy. Trying to cram instruction and more testing into them is futile. Expecting anything more than the basic foundations of the coming school year during this time is unwise and irrational. Stop the Insanity. Embrace the Serenity. Let’s run into each other at the ballgame, the pool, the museum, or the park instead.

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Another Favorite Holiday Season

What a lovely time of year this is. MLB have begun again, trees and flowers are blooming, the weather is currently quite nice, and to use a cliche, spring is in the air. I know there are things some people don’t like about spring, like pollen and bugs, but it’s still a hopeful season, and I enjoy it. It’s also home to my third favorite holiday of the year. If you’ve previously read my blog, you may have seen me post about my other two favorite holidays each year: Thanksgiving, which I value primarily because it is centered on gratitude, something to which we all need to devote more time; and New Year’s Eve/Day, because it’s an extension of the Christmas season without all the baggage, and because it represents new opportunities heading into another year. By now, you’ve probably guessed that my third favorite holiday is the one people across the globe celebrated this past weekend, Easter.

Technically, that’s Easter Sunday, according to the Catholic Church. Each day of this week on the Catholic calendar is officially tagged as “Easter _________” as part of the Octave of Easter. The Easter season itself lasts 50 days in Catholicism, culminating with Pentecost Sunday. So it’s truly another holiday season all its own, as opposed to a single day after which everyone simply moves on. Now, this post isn’t really designed as a theological lesson or some kind of evangelization imploring the reader to convert. I have plenty of friends who are non-religious and also know several people who are atheist. As someone who grew up and remains a faithful Catholic, I respect those viewpoints, so you won’t read any “He Is Risen” rhetoric here with explanation about what it should mean to your life. Although I will admit that, as a child attending early morning Mass on Easter Sunday, I did find the sun shining through the stained glass window and creating a colorful glow near the altar to be an inspiring sight. But that’s a tale for another time.

Regardless of one’s religious beliefs, I find this time of year in general, and the Easter season in particular, to be joyful. Spring itself is a time of rebirth, whether it involves leaves growing back on the trees, someone hoping this is finally the year their team succeeds, a person recommitting to their baptismal promises in church, or everyone simply cleaning the back porch in preparation for cookouts and summer activities. We could also talk about what a great time it is for sports because of all the events happening or approaching. But I don’t want to list out all the ways spring is cool or bullet out “Top 10 things I love about Easter.” I just want to focus on three aspects of the holiday that I find most appealing.

Renewal. Let’s begin with the easiest and most obvious theme. As I said, this is what the Spring season is all about. In Catholicism (and several other Christian traditions), Easter follows Lent, which is a season of self-denial, sacrifice, and simplicity in preparation for the holiday. I happen to enjoy Lent because it represents a purging of vices and things that can pollute our lives, which juxtaposes well against the emotions and themes of the Easter season. The cleansing aspect of this time of year is definitely positive. “Spring cleaning” isn’t just about clutter in the house, garage, or porch. It also can be mental, emotional, and intellectual. For many people, the idea of renewal at this time of year may also remind them to reinforce some of the New Year’s Resolutions they made in January and have let slip over the first quarter of the year. Old habits die hard, as they say, so if you’ve managed to slip back into prior routines, no better time to root them out again than the spring. Get back to eating right, or driving better or calmer, or just making time for things that matter. Renewal can really mean “refocus,” if that’s what it takes. The renewal process can be as dramatic or as subtle as needed.

Part of the renewal process for me is a change of seasons, professionally. You might’ve read my most recent post about Winterguard, for which I have handled sound and announcing for several weeks now. The Easter season typically means that this year’s season has concluded, so it’s time for me to switch gears in my VO career to other work. I can put away PA gear that I’ve carried with me every weekend and focus more on working in my booth at home and marketing my skills and services to the right people. I will still participate in some live announce gigs (I have two coming up later in the spring that I will write about in May), but now it’s all about looking for commercial and narration work. I’m particularly excited about these prospects this year because I actually have far more time to devote to these pursuits.

Shifting Calendar Dates. This one may seem odd at first, but hear me out. Everybody knows that Christmas occurs on December 25, right? Some people even get so obnoxious about it that they’ll be able to tell you exactly how many days until Christmas today, April 9. So what date does Easter occur? Can’t say for sure, right? That’s because Easter is what’s called a “movable feast.” The rule of thumb is that Easter Sunday is the first Sunday after the first full moon after the Vernal Equinox, the beginning of spring. There are some very specific rules in the Catholic tradition about the date of the equinox (March 21), along with the “Paschal” full moon, but you get the idea. Easter will always occur sometime between March 22 and April 25. Yes, there’s literally over a month of variance between the earliest and latest possible dates for Easter. It’s not fixed on the calendar like Christmas or Independence Day.

Some people find the movable nature of Easter to be confusing, but I have always enjoyed it. I find a certain charm in the knowledge that this year’s date for Easter will not be the same as next year’s. I also think it’s cool when Easter is super-early or super-late in the possible window. Because it’s based on lunar cycles, that shakes things up, and I am here for it. Heck, in the Eastern Orthodox Church, they use a Julian calendar instead of a Gregorian calendar, which places Orthodox Easter on a different date. This year it’s on April 12. Call me crazy, but I think that’s cool. I also enjoy how some years, the Easter season coincides with Passover in the Jewish tradition, and some years it doesn’t. I suppose it shouldn’t surprise anyone to know that I spent 4 years early in my education career teaching World History and World Geography. One of the fundamental themes in both of those courses was the influence of religious beliefs and traditions on culture. Learning the nature of movable feasts in several religions was therefore emminently useful knowledge. You don’t have to memorize every rule for every religion to appreciate the influence holidays like this have on our lives, especially when it’s not a fixed, single-date holiday that comes and goes. Bring me a nice holiday season any day.

Lack of Commercialization. And more than anything, when you bring me that nice season, stop trying to convince me to buy stuff because of it. True story: one of the local morning news/lifestyle programs in Dallas ran a segment on “Easter gift ideas” last week. What?!?!? I mean, if you’re under 10-12, the old-fashioned Easter egg hunt is a fine activity. And perhaps some of the eggs will have something besides candy inside. Maybe the kids’ Easter baskets will have ONE item inside that’s not food or food-adjacent. I remember receiving a stuffed bunny wearing a baseball uniform in my Easter basket when I was 8, and it was cool. Other years, I got a couple of comic books since I often gave those up for Lent. But “Easter gifts?” You have got to be kidding me. We don’t need for Easter to become yet another gift-giving holiday.

Even as a child, one of the things I liked about Easter was the lack of things. After all, this wasn’t Jesus’ birthday. We had just spent the previous week focused on suffering and death. Easter was about resurrection from that death, but still…death, people. Not the same. Not about lights and decorations and things. Clearly a more serious message. Since you had given up something for Lent, the only “things” at Easter were whatever you had sacrificed, like the aforementioned comic, chocolate, your favorite TV show, snacks, whatever. When I was young, my family would typically go to early morning Mass on Easter Sunday (complete with stained glass glow), then we would go someplace nice for breakfast. Then it was typically back home for a nap since we got up so early. No gifts. And it was the greatest. 

Now, as a kid, I enjoyed getting Christmas gifts as much as the next guy. But Christmas was Christmas, and Easter was Easter. The Easter Bunny (or Easter Beagle, IYKYK) hides eggs; he doesn’t come down the chimney with a bag of gifts. Leave that to Santa Claus in the winter. And to this day, I still appreciate that aspect of Easter. I’ve previously written about how the Christmas season gets exhausting because there’s pressure to do things and buy stuff and do and buy and do and buy. Not so with Easter. If you’re religious, Easter is all about sacrifice and prayer leading up to it, then celebration of the miracle and all it implies for yourself in this life and the next. If you’re not religious, you can still get into the more secular aspects of Easter, like eggs and rabbits that shouldn’t go together but somehow do, or just get outside in great weather, go out to eat, and enjoy the day. And I know, capitalism, business, economic growth, yada yada. I taught that stuff for two decades. But there will be plenty of opportunities to buy things that don’t have to tie in with Easter. The U.S. is clearly a consumer-based culture, and it’s not like any business is going to wither away and die just because Easter sales fell short of the forecast.

The bottom line for me at Easter can be summed up by what my family did this year. We attended Mass, came home, and relaxed. We watched baseball on TV. We had a nice meal together. We enjoyed each other’s company. We got outside and enjoyed some great weather. As the season progresses, I have some personal goals and objectives to attend to — some related to faith, some just things to be completed, physically and intellectually — so there is a sense of renewal. And we’ll come back and do it all again a year from now, even though I can’t tell you the exact date yet. And that’s awesome.

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Why Are You Yelling?

Every voiceover talent enters the profession from one of several paths. Most of the VO friends I have appear to have started in the world of radio and migrated to VO. Several others have a background in acting and decided to pursue voice acting instead of, or in addition to, stage and on-camera. As for me, I came from the world of public address announcing. I began as “the PA guy,” that voice you hear at a sporting event, band contest, or other occasion – welcoming you; giving you the lowdown on emergency exits and security; imploring you to show good sportsmanship, stay in your seats during a performance, or turn off your flash when taking photos; asking you to stand for the Alma Mater and/or National Anthem; and of course, telling you who’s performing next, who carried the ball or made the tackle, who scored that basket, committed that foul, is at the free throw line, or is batting next. I get to tell you who’s placed where or what the score is before thanking you for coming, inviting you to our next event, and wishing you a safe drive home. I’ve been doing this type of voice work for three decades now, and it is still incredibly fun and rewarding.

It was a little over 20 years ago that, at a band competition, I encountered a parent who worked for an agency in Dallas. She inquired if I was a professional voiceover talent. At the time, I was still a classroom teacher who simply did PA work on the side. She suggested I send her some clips that she could share with her bosses. What a massive moment for me – am I really good enough that someone thinks I do professional voiceover? I scraped together some recording equipment and scripts, did my reads, and sent them off to her. And what a massive wake-up call. “You need coaching.” (No surprise.) They recommended the great Bruce Carey in Dallas. I did a free consultation with him, and he was willing to work with me, but I wasn’t ready at that time to commit to VO training, financially or otherwise. Still, the experience opened my eyes to what I had been doing right up to that point as a “PA guy,” and especially how I might improve. And boy, did I have a long way to go. Obviously, I have since pursued proper VO training and begun a more professional track in the world of voiceover. But even though I’ve expanded my VO interests, genres, and goals, I still remain strongly connected to the world of PA and live announce. While it’s not necessarily the most lucrative work, I still find it every bit as fun and rewarding as ever. I love it. And yet, there’s still something that bothers me about this particular niche of voice work. How can I describe it? Perhaps “the yellers.” “The screamers.” The folks who either don’t understand the nuance of VO and how it can apply to live announce, or the ones who’ve never been trained at all and just think that yelling at the crowd somehow engages them.

On social media, I belong to or follow several PA-related groups, pages, and accounts. So I see lots of other PA announcers who post about their work, including photos of the venues and videos of their work. I’ve also captured lots of video of my own PA work and posted some of it to social media, though not necessarily to these groups. I can only speak for myself, but my primary purpose in recording video or audio of my PA work is really improvement. I don’t simply go back and watch to say, “Wow, I’m great!” I’m intentionally critical of my own performance – ensuring I emphasized the right words and phrases, looking for patterns that are too monotonous or “sing-songy,” that kind of thing. Throughout this self-assessment, I place a priority on two things: First, the clarity of the message. Am I giving the audience the information they need or want? If it’s something like a sponsor read, am I properly billboarding the sponsor’s name and inviting the audience to consider them? Am I saying the name(s) correctly? (This one’s a HUGE one for me – more on that in a future blog post.) Is my phrasing actually leading somewhere, coming across coherently and bringing the copy to life? Second, the tone of the message. My concern here is literal – pitch, volume, timbre, everything about my vocal quality. Just like with a commercial read, there’s an art to it – when to raise or lower the pitch, when to speak louder or softer, when to exteeeeeend a word, phrase, or name, when to clip a word, even when to add a little resonance, vocal fry, or possibly a bit of a growl. Achieve the right blend of clarity and tone, and you have what I would consider audience engagement. You’re adding to the event, but not overshadowing or overwhelming it.

The bottom line is that the PA guy, the announcer, the “voice of god” in VO industry parlance, is NOT the show. The show is on the floor, on the field, on the stage. The live announcer’s job is to frame, explain, or enhance the show. To assist in the presentation of the show in a positive, enjoyable, professional manner, while at the same time being sort of “forgettable” because the audience is ultimately, you know, enjoying the show. And it’s why the best live announcers in the business are names the average person won’t know unless they pay careful attention. Some are well-known because they’ve announced on the biggest stages, like Allen Roach at the Super Bowl or Randy Thomas at The Oscars. Others might have regional notoriety thanks to an association with a sports franchise or university, like Chuck Morgan with the Texas Rangers or Bob Ford with the Houston Astros and the University of Houston. Still others might find themselves associated with niche events, like a couple of friends of mine – Dan Potter, who announces shows for DCI and BOA, among others, and John Pollard, who announces shows for BOA and the UIL State Marching Band Contest. Maybe not everyone is going to love their individual styles – that’s the nature of the VO business in general – but these announcers all have credibility as voice artists in their own right because they fundamentally work to highlight someone else’s efforts, accomplishments, and excellence. That’s the job of the announcer; you’re the voice “behind it all,” as it were. The now-defunct National Association of Sports Public Address Announcers used to call it “the voice above the crowd.” People appreciate the work you do precisely because it does ΝΟΤ interfere with the event or annoy them. If you’re the show, you’re a problem.

Having said all that, you can likely understand my consternation when I come across posts in my Facebook feed, or on Twitter, or sometimes even on LinkedIn, and see PA announcers posting videos of themselves doing things that give me headaches and heartburn. So many of them “eat the mic” in the first place, putting their lips right up against the foam windscreen or the mic itself. Any VO professional knows this is terrible mic technique unless you’re going for a very specific effect. To add to it, these guys are often absolutely screaming into the mic regardless of the situation. To be fair, some situations call for volume from the PA announcer – for instance, I inject a lot of energy into starting lineups when I’m announcing college basketball, although I never max out my volume or risk harming my vocal cords. But I saw a video just the other day where a guy was announcing high school playoff basketball and absolutely screaming players’ names for every made basket, and then he absolutely lost his mind yelling the final score when the game ended. Keep in mind, it was a playoff game at a neutral site, meaning the PA is supposed to be impartial; and what’s more, in a highly contested playoff game with a large crowd, the PA doesn’t need to make any effort at all to pump up the crowd. They’re going to be excited and probably won’t even be listening to you. Even for a big home game, this announcer’s style was over-the-top, and yet pointless at the same time.

This is an all-too-common tale, and not just on social media. Someone posts a video, “here’s me at my local little league baseball game announcing the starting lineups,” featuring this person getting way too intimate with a Shure SM58 and YEEEELLLLLING EVERYOOOOOONE’S NAAAAAAAAMMMMMMEEEE. And of course, the comments are all “Great Job!” “Awesome!” “You’re crushing it!” And I’m looking in horror, saying, “You’re not crushing it, you’re crushing the fans’ ears. Why are you yelling?” There’s maybe 40 people at this game, and the only thing you’re crushing is their enjoyment. This isn’t engaging; it’s annoying. And inappropriate. Then I see another post of a PA announcer who put on a coat, tie, and nice pair of shoes to announce the starting lineups from the floor with a wireless microphone. And of course, his approach to the presentation mostly consisted of yelling. WHY?!? I mean, if your goal is to become an emcee for a college- or pro-level team, by all means, shoot your shot. Work at it. Make it happen. But I’m betting the local private school with a tiny gym that only has 5-8 rows of wooden bleachers doesn’t have a video board and isn’t looking for enhanced game presentation with an emcee and fan activities during timeouts. PA guy dressing up to announce from the floor in this setting just reeks of “making it about you.” And sorry to tell you, buddy, but no one there really cares about you. They care about the game on the floor, and they’re just humoring you and hoping you’ll finish whatever you’re doing real soon. I’m just not sure what some PA announcers are trying to accomplish at times, and I suspect it’s the inherent good nature of others in the group that prevents a lot of ridicule and embarrassment in the comments.

Now I’m sure someone might retort at this point, “Oh, great, here we go. Old guy hates new things and gripes about them. Get off his lawn while he yells at this cloud.” Give me a break. If you think good PA work involves extra volume more than 10% of the time, you are way off the mark. Yelling is neither innovative nor engaging. If you think good PA work involves being seen out there standing next to the players and praised like you’re part of the team, you have issues with ego and insecurity. The PA is part of a team, alright, but it’s a behind-the-scenes team that’s working to make the featured event function likes it’s supposed to. Quality live announce work is all about structure, timing, mood, and knowing your role, then executing your role to fit the presentation. And that role has changed greatly over the years. The old-school work of people like Bob Sheppard of the New York Yankees, who famously used a deliberate, even tone for every name he announced and just about every word he spoke, is all but gone. Sheppard’s style is considered iconic, but that’s primarily because of his longevity (also because it was the Yankees). Drop Bob Sheppard into a modern arena with a present-day game presentation and he is way out of his element. Live events now call for a certain level of enthusiasm. You have to sound like you want to be there, and you’re happy the fans are there, too (even if it’s completely false because the team is suffering through a long losing streak or you’re exhausted after getting to the venue at 6:00am this morning). This is the only place any of us wants to be at this time on this day, period. And that has to come through in your delivery.

Does that call for yelling? A handful of times, maybe. The vast majority of the time, NO. Sure, get boisterous announcing your home lineup. In a big moment, make the announcement big. After a big home win, let the home fans know that score. Bottom Line: Fit The Moment. And be judicious and consistent in how you approach each moment. When you yell too often, it’s way too easy to work your way into a place where that’s just about all you do. And then there’s no differentiation. If the entire game warrants yelling, then none of it really matters, and you’re just annoying in your PA work. So why are you yelling?

Part of me blames the major pro leagues for this trend. You hear screaming PA in way too many pro venues. At NFL venues with a PA guy yelling “It’s THIIIIIIIIIIRD DOOOOOOWWWWN” at every occurrence. At NBA venues where they have a PA guy yelling at the fans literally all game long, imploring them to chant “DE-FENSE” or “LET’S GO [TEAM NAME].” Is this what passes for fan engagement in the 21st century? And we’ve begun to hear this kind of stuff at some college and even high school venues. It drives me insane, mainly because these messages are why video boards were invented and have grown so massive. The video crew can put “Make Noise!,” “DE-FENSE!,” etc., on the board, and the crowd responds. This is how it works at baseball games. Heck, pipe in some drumming audio – the familiar rhythms of “We Will Rock You” are timeless. We don’t need someone eating the mic, screaming at the top of their lungs, causing damage to their own voice, just in the name of “hyping the crowd.” So why are you yelling?

“But we’re creating a rock concert atmosphere. Get with the times, old man.” Look, chief, if I buy tickets to AC/DC, you’d better believe I’m going to expect it to be loud. That’s their bit. If I’m going to any concert in an arena or stadium, I expect loud. But I ask you: Who’s delivering the loud? Is it some nameless PA guy in a coat and tie walking on stage and yelling “GIVE IT UP FOR AC/DC!!!!!” If the actual show on the stage is worth seeing, it needs no introduction. Similarly, if the game on the field is worth seeing, it needs no introduction. And yet, you may be called upon to give it an introduction, so at least make it appropriate. I’ll say it again: The PA announcer’s job is to frame, explain, or enhance the show. So do that. Enhance the game. Enhance the product the audience came to see. ESPECIALLY when the audience consists of a modest number of fans or attendees, many of whom are parents of the players on the field or court. ESPECIALLY when those players are non-professionals, young people who participate for the love of it. Maybe a few might – might – advance to collegiate or professional levels. But right now, it’s just a bunch of literal kids trying to have fun and win today’s game. This is not a rock concert. As a PA announcer, add to what they are doing. Feature them. Promote them. Make them the only thing you want to watch at this moment. And fit the moment. But screaming over the microphone won’t do anything to make them look or feel professional. It will just annoy them and the people who came to watch them. So why are you yelling?

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The Most Infuriating Test of All

Welcome to the week after President’s Day. For many, this week brings many positive signs: Winter may soon cease its hold on the northern hemisphere. Spring is coming. Lent is here, followed by Easter sooner than you think. Baseball spring training is in-progress, so baseball season is approaching, and it’s here at the high school and college levels. The Winter Olympics are reaching their climax. Other sports are ramping up for 2026 – auto racing, tennis, golf. College basketball’s March Madness will be here soon. But for public school teachers, I have always referred to this time of year as the “Season of Hate.” The holidays were over a while ago. Spring Break is still weeks away. There’s not much novelty in classrooms at this time of year, and the end of the school year seems far in the distance. There’s basically just the daily grind of instruction — and because of recent days lost to icy roads, there is much content on which to catch up. There’s also much content to cover before district benchmarks, or before Spring Break, or before state assessments. Teachers are essentially forced to cram in lots of instruction – tons of it – probably more than they normally would, and students hate it. And truthfully, so do the teachers. It’s the toughest time of the school year, a fairly constant face-off and struggle between students and teachers.

On top of all of this hostility-infused activity, the state layers on another federally-mandated test that doesn’t get nearly enough attention. It’s the poster child for “Good Intentions Run Amok.” Texas calls it the Texas English Language Proficiency Assessment System, or TELPAS. And everybody hates it — teachers, students, administrators, you name it. Everyone hates TELPAS. You’ll hardly ever hear about it on the news because it’s not the centerpiece of the state accountability system, STAAR. But it can affect state accountability ratings, especially if you’re a campus or district with a high population of EB students.

“What the heck are ‘EB’ students?” Ah-ha, so maybe you don’t know the ins and outs of TELPAS. Here’s a quick synopsis: TELPAS grew out of the No Child Left Behind Act of 2001 — that law acknowledged that A) the U.S. has a growing population of students whose primary language is not English and B) it’s imperative that public schools help these students develop English language skills over time so that they can succeed in U.S. schools. We used to call these students English as a Second Language (ESL), Limited English Proficient (LEP), and English Language Learners (ELL), but now we call them Emergent Bilingual (EB). The federal government has a requirement for all public schools to track their English Language Proficiency (that’s the ELP in TELPAS). The State of Texas had actually begun such tracking way back in 1999. The test covers four Domains of language: Reading, Writing, Listening, and Speaking.

“Why does everybody hate TELPAS?” I would suggest a big part of it is that TELPAS is yet another intrusion on instruction right smack dab in the middle of the Season of Hate. But beyond that, it’s a challenge precisely because it is NOT required for every single student; it’s only for students designated as EB. The EB designation is already pretty vague, but once it’s attached to the student’s record, it’s also difficult to remove. Which makes TELPAS a pesky requirement, even for EB students who actually know English well. At its inception, TELPAS still affected all students, because the writing portion was required to be “authentic writing from an academic class,” BUT the assignment had to be assigned for every student. So teachers were expected to develop some contrived writing assignment for 100% of their students just so EB students could be evaluated for TELPAS. Then there was the “calibration” process for teachers, where they had to figure out how to evaluate what constituted Beginner vs Intermediate vs Advanced vs Advanced-High proficiency, specifically according to the state’s guidelines. That process, by itself, was at least two weeks of extra work for teachers just for the training. THEN they would have to assign the writing assignments in class , and get students to actually complete them (easier said than done). THEN administrators had to collect the writing samples for the EB students (and that process had a multitude of other requirements). THEN the teachers had to read all the samples and evaluate them. THEN the teachers also had to evaluate the Listening and Speaking proficiency. PLUS the EB students would have to take a basic Reading test online.

“How long would it take to do all that?” Way. Too. Long. Teacher training for TELPAS occurred at the beginning of February (for two weeks), then the “window” for completing TELPAS activities opened right after President’s Day and closed at the end of March (another SIX weeks). That’s EIGHT weeks of TELPAS-related activity, not including the time administrators spent attending trainings and preparing to coordinate all of this stuff. Naturally, campuses would do their best to complete TELPAS in the early part of the window, but there would be struggles to get students to complete the writing assignments (a minimum FIVE samples were required, with other stipulations as to what type of writing was needed). There might be students absent on the scheduled date of the reading test. Or there might be students who were chronic absentees through most of the TELPAS window. Then there was the issue of what to do with new students or students who withdrew from your campus or district during the window. It was a cacophony of never-ending activity, all in service to a test that, while well-meaning, ultimately mattered not one bit to district or, frankly, TEA officials. Students hated it. Teachers hated it. Administrators hated it. Everybody hates TELPAS. As a district testing coordinator, I literally made a joke out of how much people loathed the whole thing.

In recent years, the cacophony has quieted ever-so-slightly. For grades 2-12, TEA now offers two online assessments – one for Listening and Speaking, another for Reading and Writing. For all but K-1 teachers, the chaotic days of calibration and writing sample collection are over. But there’s still a logistical challenge, because the Listening/Speaking test requires students to use wired headsets plugged into the computing device. Yes, wired headsets — as in, headphones with a microphone attached. You can get cheap earbud-style headsets on Amazon at $1/item or less by buying in bulk, but if you want decent over-the-ear headsets that can easily be reused, you’re typically talking $10-$20 per headset. If you’re an elementary campus with only a few dozen EB students, it’s easy. But if you’re a 6A high school like where I most recently worked, with 50% EB students (yes, 1,500 students out of 3,000), that’s A LOT of headsets, and a potentially HUGE expense. To reduce the possibility of chronic absenteeism, we used to schedule a “shutdown” day for each test, but we couldn’t schedule more than 15-20 students per testing room because the speaking portion required distance between students. So you can probably imagine that planning roughly 100 testing rooms and distributing 1,500 headsets while relocating another 1,500 students, using a staff of up to 200 adults, was…interesting. And if you can imagine that, you can see why everybody STILL hates TELPAS, even though it’s now 100% online testing. Because you know what? The district and the state still don’t really care about it. Yet here we are.

“So why do they still do it?” Because of what I said earlier – “Good Intentions Run Amok.” Honestly, TELPAS is born of a well-meaning concept. If we’re concerned about the academic performance of ALL students, and academic performance hinges on the literacy rate, then there’s definitely a need for students who come from non-English-speaking households to grasp the English language and establish literacy skills in it. Trouble is, our politicians’ first thought regarding student performance has always been “Let’s have the schools stop everything and test them.” So NCLB mandated it, and ESSA (the Every Student Succeeds Act) renewed the requirement. Thus, TEA has to figure out when they can cram the test into the academic year without intruding on all the other federally-mandated tests. So their testing calendar puts it square in the Season of Hate. Fun!

“Do these EB students show improvements?” Based on my own experience in the classroom and as an administrator, I am confident that most EB students learn English reasonably well by being immersed in English-based instruction IF their teachers offer instruction that properly teaches the vocabulary of the course. (That is a massive “IF.”) That can be said for native and non-native English speakers alike. There are plenty of native English speakers out there who don’t have the first clue about how to use the English language, too. (Seriously, just read online comments for a sampling of the illiteracy problem in the U.S.) But the key to any of this is instruction, not testing. There’s not a single EB student who ever dug down and learned English better because “I’m going to ace that TELPAS test.” Not one. TELPAS is well-intended, but you simply cannot suggest its existence has improved the academic performance of EB students. It’s been around for roughly a quarter-century, but any statistical analysis of TELPAS growth results is flawed at best because of the fluctuation in EB student populations, changes across districts and campuses, changes in the format and content of the tests, and, oh yeah…these are still kids being evaluated every year from K-12. (YES, K through 12; TELPAS doesn’t wait until Grade 3.) I’m sure EB students are improving their English skills overall; I’m also sure it has nothing to do with TELPAS.

“We should get the government to abolish this test!” It wouldn’t hurt my feelings if we got rid of all of the federally-mandated testing requirements — not just TELPAS, but STAAR, the next iteration of testing coming to Texas, and everything else. (And that’s coming from a guy who spent over a decade in the testing world.) Without the mandates, schools would naturally figure out what standardized tests, if any, would generate the data that would actually help them improve instruction and learning. But the reality is that we live in the era of school accountability (another can of worms all its own), and where there is accountability, there is assessment. I don’t know of many politicians with the fortitude to admit that the extra requirements they’ve been adding for the past 30-40 years aren’t working. If anything, they double- and triple-down. Add to the equation all the marketing and lobbying efforts of the big testing firms out there who profit from the system. So it’s probably never going away in our lifetime. The best we can hope for is that the trend recedes a bit over the next decade, and then hope that any reversal gains transaction.

In the meantime, I offer my former colleagues my best wishes as they navigate these waters in the school year. I know you hate TELPAS. I know your students hate TELPAS. Everybody hates TELPAS. Have some solidarity in that knowledge and work through it together, knowing everyone’s in the same boat with similar emotions. “Survive and advance,” as they say. It’s going to suck, but it will end (…okay, just in time for the next round of testing, but still). Do your best to fight through it. If you’re not in education and have never had to deal with this type of stuff, try to have a little empathy for those in the throes of this time of the school year — students, teachers, and administrators alike. If it seems like it’s rough for them, that’s because IT IS. Recognize and appreciate that. But know this: The Season of Hate eventually ends, every year, and is supplanted by the Season of Love. (Don’t worry; I will write about that when the time comes, too, because it’s the best.) Stay strong, and don’t let the frustration consume you. EHT.

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To Mom

My mother passed away on Saturday, February 7, 2026, at the age of 95. Soon, we will have her funeral and burial, and I’ve been asked to offer a eulogy. So I’ve been crystallizing thoughts about and memories of my mom, trying to develop a proper eulogy that appropriately captures the value and lessons of her life. This blog post is a step toward that end. 

“Fine. We’re fine. I’m fine.”

Those were the words my mother would offer anytime I asked her how she and my dad were doing, even as they aged. Even when I knew one or both of them had some kind of ailment. “We’re fine.” Even after my father passed in 2020, whenever we visited her, she always told us, “I’m fine.” After Alzheimer’s disease rendered her unable to respond verbally, I’m still fairly sure that, had I posed the question, that would’ve been her instinctive thought. “Fine.” That’s because my mother really never complained. She never focused on the negatives so many of us sometimes see. Mom was an unceasingly positive person. She viewed every day as a gift, and more often than not, she had good days. And even if today was not a good day, tomorrow would always be here soon enough. The sun will shine in the east in the morning. There will be new opportunities. This too, shall pass. Whatever didn’t happen just wasn’t meant to be, but what is meant to be will happen. God will provide.

Born on December 16, 1930 in Azusa, California, Jovita Enriqueta Murillo moved with her family as a young girl to El Paso, Texas, settling and growing up in the community of Ysleta, less than 3 miles from the Mexican border. It was there that Jovita attended the same school where her mother managed the cafeteria, Ysleta High School; and she also learned the value of a life in service to others. Jovita graduated from Ysleta High in 1948 and began a brief career in banking. She also enjoyed spending time and traveling with a variety of friends and relatives during her early adulthood, including visits to San Diego to see Abraham Ponce, whom she had met on St. Patrick’s Day in 1948, and who was serving there in the US Navy. Abe and Jovita eventually married on April 24, 1955 at the historic Ysleta mission, Our Lady of Mount Carmel Catholic Church. Upon becoming Mrs. Ponce, Jovita left the bank and began the adult life that she grew to adore.

The Ponces welcomed three girls and two boys into the family in El Paso. In 1971, a new job opportunity for Abe with the Community Services Administration in Dallas brought the family to Arlington, Texas, and the home Jovita lived in and loved for over 48 years — where she saw her children grow up and move into adulthood, and where she also adored and indulged five grandchildren. The house in west-central Arlington was a bit of a haven for her, and she relished her role as wife, mother, grandmother, housekeeper, baker, and chef in that space. Never a complaint. Always a positive outlook. Usually a cookie or snack waiting in the wings. She was fine.

Mom was willing to do basically whatever it took to keep her husband and children happy and comfortable. I can remember back to when I was basically still a toddler and struggled with nightmares – she was Mommy to me back then, and she calmly sat at the end of my bed providing a comforting presence so that I could return to sleep. Her willingness to support went beyond the family. When I was in high school at a summer drum major camp at UTA, my three teammates and I found ourselves with an extended break one late afternoon, but also short on cash for dinner. A quick phone call to Mom, and before long the four of us were enjoying some roast beef and vegetables she happened to have leftover, listening to jazz records on the family stereo. When I was in college, one of my best friends would occasionally ask if we could run to my house before band rehearsal because he thought Mom might have some cookies on-hand. She did, of course. I’m pretty sure she even made us sandwiches more than once.

That’s really who she was. A nurturer. A provider. Doing what you needed or wanted, content herself because you were happy. One of my favorite photos of Mom was taken before I was born, and featured Mom and my four siblings outside the El Paso International Airport when they were picking up my father after a business trip. She looks completely fulfilled in that photo, taking care of her husband and the kids – she seemed born for that role. Mom frequently found herself making the airport drive to pick up Dad over the years. When I was a preteen and a teenager, I was usually her right-hand man on such occasions, helping her navigate to DFW Airport since she sometimes felt uncertain about making the correct exits and turns. It was great bonding time for us — I’m sure I unloaded whatever teenage angst I had, and I know that Mom reassured me in the manner only she could. Mom always offered comfort and optimism, no matter how much anxiety or distress you may feel. It will all be fine.

I’m also sure that Mom prayed for me constantly, as she prayed for all of her family. She used to carry prayer books in her purse at all times, and they were often typically worn out from use. We found ourselves regularly looking for replacements at the local Catholic store. She was particularly fond of St. Jude and sought his intercession regularly. I think it actually went back to her childhood, growing up during the Great Depression. I imagine many people sought intercession from the patron saint of lost causes during those years. Mom prayed novenas to St Jude for many intentions. Her Catholic faith was fundamental to her life. Although she never became heavily involved in parish organizations, she would always contribute something for bake sales and other events. She was steadfast in her faith, and it fueled her optimism and helped her drive away discouragement.

If my mother ever felt frustration, I imagine it came later in her life, when comfort, perseverance, and prayer proved to be not quite enough to stave off circumstances. In 2008, my sister Susan was diagnosed with Stage 4 lung cancer. Naturally, Mom turned to St. Jude. By his grace and the miraculous efforts of doctors at MD Anderson Cancer Center, she was granted an additional 4 years with her daughter. But Susan passed in 2012, and Mom was heartbroken. Yet she soldiered on, taking care of her husband until his enhanced needs and her own physical limitations made it difficult for her to look after him in her customary manner. After Abe suffered a stroke in November 2019 and ultimately passed in January 2020, Mom moved into assisted living. My hope for her was that she could focus on herself at that point, engage in some self-care while gaining a sense of community, especially in the face of an Alzheimer’s diagnosis. But the truth is that without something or someone there to nurture – her home, her family, and especially her husband, Mom found fulfillment difficult to achieve. Yet she still proclaimed “I’m fine.” She appreciated everything the staff did for her, her nice neighbors, and the setting, but she missed her home, her husband, and the life of service she loved. I am at least grateful that, even though she wasn’t always verbally responsive in her final years, she still appeared to recognize visitors easily. Alzheimer’s affected her, but not to the extent where she lost connection with those she loved. Perhaps St. Jude was looking after her. I’m also grateful that her final days in this life were peaceful, not painful, allowing her to pass with serenity.

Most of all, I’m thankful for the values and characteristics that my mother leaves behind. Quiet dignity. Patience. Fortitude. Perspective. Grace. Compassion. Service. We should all try to live those values in her honor. But now that she’s moved on to her heavenly reward, reunited with her beloved husband and daughter — don’t cry for her today. She’s fine.

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To What Is, not What Might Have Been

Unanswered prayers. Twists of fate. Unfulfilled desires. Foiled plans. Typically, phrases like these evoke negative images for us. Our minds conjure thoughts of “the one that got away,” be it a person, a job, an opportunity, or something entirely different. We kind of enjoy torturing ourselves this way because the idea of “what might have been” can make for a very compelling story. There are movies, books, and songs written in lamentation about what was lost. It’s also a common storytelling trope to have the protagonist revisit the missed opportunity years later.

But isn’t that all just imagination? That’s literally what “wishful thinking” is. We concoct our own little story about what could have happened if circumstances had unfolded differently, and it just so happens that >gasp< it would have been SO wonderful, if only… Today I say: Hogwash. Fiddlesticks. Malarkey. Poppycock. Baloney. [Insert your favorite old-timey dismissive phrase here.] Twists of fate are a part of life, whether you believe God has a hand in what happens to you or not. That’s why there’s an adage that “if you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.” We’re like kids at Christmas. Make our list of gifts, talk to Santa, hint to our parents, and cross our fingers that we’ll get what we want. And remember, we also make choices all the time, every day. And sometimes a single choice has a significant effect, creating a chain of proverbial dominos that fall to produce our circumstances – sometimes for better, sometimes for worse. Remember, too, that we are also often affected by other people’s choices, so even when we’ve planned and prepared and prayed and chosen wisely – some other choice, some other circumstance, some other event impacts us and throws off our proverbial path. And while it may seem crushing to us in the moment, I’m here to tell you it’s often for the best.

Last week, I wrote about the choice I made with my wife to marry each other 31 years ago. It’s a choice that feeds me positively each day, but a mere 5-6 years earlier, things could have been different. I had dated a young lady for a couple of years going back to high school. We broke up after she left for college, but one summer we reconnected and began to get kind of serious, even discussing whether we might be interested in marrying. Then she went back to school and met someone else – the man who would ultimately become her husband. (They’ve been happily married for 35 years.) After that second breakup, I immersed myself in school, embarking on my first semester since high school where I made straight A’s. I also worked a lot, did some traveling, and eventually met my future wife. Time for a pop culture reference – Ted Lasso: “It may not work out how you think it will or how you hope it does. But believe me, it will all work out, exactly as it’s supposed to.” And for both myself and my old girlfriend from high school, it absolutely did.

Fast forward to 2025, when I finally completed the steps need to retire from K-12 public education. I wrote about how I had actually applied for one more administrative role in a nearby district, and I honestly believe I was on the cusp of getting hired. Then I received the dreaded “we’ve selected a different candidate e-mail.” Curses! Foiled again! Or was I? Ironically, I read that e-mail on my phone in a medical center waiting room while my wife underwent a scan for breast cancer tissue. That test eventually came back positive for “cancerous material” — not really cells, more like particles. So she had to undergo more tests and a surgical procedure, along with follow-up appointments. Guess who was by her side every minute? This guy…without ever having to give a thought to whatever work I was missing or would have to catch up on at my new job. I truly consider it a blessing that I could have zero other concerns during that time. Just her. And shortly after that situation was resolved, along came a part-time opening working in the office at my church parish. So instead of more potentially soul-crushing work in education, I landed in a calmer job that supplements my retirement income while allowing me time and flexibility to continue to build my voiceover career. The plan didn’t go off the rails; it just shifted to some different rails that, in the end, have followed a better path.

See, I’ve already had career plans go off-kilter in the past, and learned hard lessons from trying to “reset the plan.” It actually wasn’t all that long ago – a mere 8 years. I was working in Mansfield ISD at the time, under Dr. Teresa Stegall’s leadership in the Department of Research, Assessment, and Accountability. I’ve spoken fondly of Dr. Stegall’s leadership before. Right around this time in 2018, she retired from public education, receiving a well-deserved fond farewell from many in the district. She had previously informed me that she hoped for me to take over as Director of the department and had involved me in several tasks in preparation for the role. I had worked with central administrators and principals on a variety of projects, and I felt poised to step into the job. Trouble is, in the month after her retirement, the rest of us in the department heard nothing about the future – the Director position was never posted, and we were simply carrying on without a director. We heard rumors, but nothing definitive. Until the last Friday of February 2018, when Dr. Stegall’s supervisor met with us to inform us that the district was not, in fact, replacing her as Director. They were instead dissolving the position, using the money from that salary for other purposes, and placing our department under the supervision of a different Director in central administration. What’s more, we were charged with revising our duties to absorb the tasks of the Director, AND we had to take the department’s budget and devise our plan for the 2018-19 school year. Rug, yanked. Gut, punched. What the heck, I’ll even go there: Nuts, kicked. My plan had been to transition into a promotion, ramp up the VO career a little more, then retire from MISD – the only district where I had ever worked – after 30-35 years, then move into VO full-time. Instead, throughout my 25th year in the district, I found myself a little overworked, a little bitter, and a little bit off the rails.

So when I tried to regain control of the plan by bolting for Birdville ISD in the Spring of 2019, my hope was to get back onto my rails, albeit elsewhere. But it was a brutally failed effort that I’ve talked about briefly before. I don’t really want to relive it or recount details of how awful it was; it was mainly a year I’d like to forget. I suppose the most powerful thing I could say is that, when the COVID pandemic shut us down in March 2020, I was actually a little relieved. For the final six weeks of that year, I didn’t have to make the drive to Haltom City each day for a job that was slowly driving me insane. Work-from-home agreed with me, even if I had to conduct a job search for 2019-20 via Zoom. And even then, after my attempt at restoring the rails to a previous career path flamed out, there was yet another twist of fate that delivered me to Grand Prairie High School, working with a group of people who were mostly doing their absolute best to serve a student population that needed it. I made many lifelong friends there and encountered colleagues who I admired greatly. I learned from them, and I was able to teach them some things while keeping them entertained; and keeping them sane amidst the insanity that TEA and the district expected me to bring them as the testing coordinator. That is, until I finally had the wherewithal to bring my education career to a close and pursue voiceover full-time.

Do I regret my choice to leave Mansfield for Birdville? Not really. Given the events of February 2018, chances are that there might have been more potential gut punches along the way. The precedent had been set, and staying there could have sent a message that I would simply solider on, regardless of the circumstances. I’ve said before – central administration in education can be a little soul-crushing. That’s the nature of it. One of my colleagues in that department had a Ph.D in Statistics, and there’s a good chance that he might’ve been selected over me for the Director position. A choice to remain in MISD could have definitely produced some other twist, possibly worse than what I had already experienced. That year of misery in Birdville was at least instructive. I learned from it, as we often do from a painful experience. And just like Ted Lasso said, it did work out exactly as it was supposed to. I’ll take the exploits that I had and the friends I made at GP, thank you very much. And I’ll take the time supporting my wife instead of another central office job, as well. I have landed where I wanted to be – escaped from what had become an increasingly insane and stressful world of education, engaged more fully in the world of voiceover, and most of all, available more completely to my wife and family. Unanswered prayers? No, just different answers than I expected. Foiled plans? No, just slightly altered plans. Unfulfilled desires? No, As the great Sheryl Crow sang: “It’s not getting what you want, it’s wanting what you’ve got.” As it turns out, what I’ve got IS what I wanted. The path to get there is just not what I envisioned at one time.

The path can vary for many of us. I have two friends who have had similar experiences recently, where their intended professional plans have been altered by circumstances. One of them is currently teaching in New Mexico and had actually interviewed for the same position in the DFW area twice, finishing second both times. His current situation in NM isn’t the greatest, but it’s also not the worst, so his goal is simply to carve a different path back to DFW, and possibly back to New Mexico another time. Meanwhile, one of my friends from GPHS was passed over for that campus’ Principal position when it was open in 2024. She’s having to toil at another campus – again, not the greatest job – but her personal life has thrived even though she’s not where she wants to be professionally, and those personal developments wouldn’t have been possible at all if she was Principal of a 6A high school. There’s still plenty of time for her to achieve her professional goals. Again, it’s just going to be a different path, and there’s nothing wrong with that. We all live and learn along the way, carrying whatever knowledge, experience, and growth that are gained.

In the world of voiceover, “rejection” is a natural part of the process, a way of life. My friends in the VO world are used to hearing “No” in the face of grand plans. Really, they’re prepared for “No” after every audition. Except that it’s not necessarily “No,” it’s just “Not Right Now,” as they say. Just because someone else is booked for a given VO job doesn’t mean you weren’t good, or worthy; it just means that whoever made the casting decision selected a different voice for this project, for a reason that could be very specific or very ambiguous. And that’s really the point of this post: Unanswered prayers, unfulfilled desires, twists of fate, foiled plans don’t necessarily reflect on us as individuals. They don’t mean we’re not valuable as people, or professionals, or artists. They just mean that this isn’t the right match, the right time or place, the right circumstances. Not Right Now. But we keep at it, working toward what we seek. Enjoy the journey. Learn what you can. Value the good things and the good times. Seek, and you will find. Right Now will eventually come along, and What Is will outshine What Might Have Been.

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Festivus 2025 – Commence the Airing of Grievances

Happy Festivus! I’ve previously confessed to being a big Seinfeld fan. If you haven’t seen the episode, you’re looking for Season 9, episode 10, available on Netflix. (Fun fact: this episode includes the great Bryan Cranston and Tracy Letts.) Some may recall that I even created a variant on the holiday called Testivus in my previous role coordinating campus assessment, as described in a previous post. And any proper Seinfeld aficionado will tell you Festivus hasn’t really begun without The Airing of Grievances. I’ve got a lot of problems with you people, and now you’re gonna hear about it!

College Football: I’ll begin with what is perhaps a controversial take, in keeping with the tradition of Festivus: College football in 2025 is stupid. Full disclosure – I graduated with my Bachelor’s degree from the University of Texas at Arlington, which cancelled their football program literally the year before I enrolled. I was drum major of UTA’s band during its initial years without football, and we didn’t miss the sport one bit, mainly because UTA football, despite producing some quality players who had productive NFL careers, was collectively mired in mediocrity for nearly two decades prior to its cancellation in 1985. So I will allow that my perspective is biased, and I completely understand when people who attend or have attended other schools tell me stories about how fun it is/was to attend football games on Saturdays. And I’ve observed video evidence of many cool traditions at a variety of schools. So despite my background and bias, I get that college football can be a very cool experience, as it should be. I wish it was so simple, and I congratulate schools like the University of North Texas, where it is, for the most part.

But as with many cool phenomena in this world, there’s a line that can be crossed, and when it is, the cool factor is ruined. College football, as an institution, has crossed that line, maybe even obliterated it. The primary impetus is money. The primary evidence of this is seen across the sport – NIL, the transfer portal, the College Football Playoff, the bowl system. None of those things are inherently bad. NIL is actually a positive idea in theory, allowing athletes a chance to earn money from their own skills instead of just reserving it for the schools, and NIL works across many sports. The transfer portal (also active in multiple sports) is also a good idea in theory, because the old rule where a transfer had to miss a season was kind of stupid. The College Football Playoff – another great idea in theory. The bowl system was hugely entertaining for years, although the aforementioned developments in the sport have all but killed them.

Honestly, money has corrupted college football for decades. It is no secret that boosters have dropped millions of dollars under-the-table in years past to entice recruits…all in the name of winning. Because a good football team helps your school?!? The rationale escapes me, particularly when the best schools in the USA aren’t football powerhouses. One wonders if those funds could better serve society by actually helping people, but either way, big spending in the name of school pride is nothing new. And it has rightfully led to scandals, although only SMU has ever experienced true justice for its dealings. What’s happened in recent years, though, is comical. Through well-intended measures ostensibly designed to improve the game, college football is headed toward a winner-take-all cliff. NIL and the transfer portal have expanded the financial resources needed just to field a team at all while simultaneously reducing the game to a literal root-for-the-laundry festival of one-and-done rental players. The Playoff, which was supposed to mirror how basketball champions are determined, I suppose, has just led to teams getting upset when they’re left out. They literally take their ball and go home, refusing to play in any bowls. Eventually the lack of entertaining matchups threatens to derail the bowls altogether. The game has essentially become a race to see who can spend the most, on head coaches and players. And those players are basically untouchable on a human level because of the money. The concept of the student-athlete has died. There are people out there who can say they literally attended classes with Earl Campbell or Joe Montana. Not anymore. College football has long been the proverbial minor league for the NFL, but now it carries NFL-level financial commitments and NFL-level boundaries. Literal teenagers are making pro-level money, given to them by loosely regulated groups – no franchises, no true governing body, no commissioner. No one actually looking out for the good and integrity of the game. And certainly no one pondering the consequences of handing that much money to a kid who just turned old enough to vote or perhaps to purchase alcohol.

In the meantime, college football fans have arguably become the worst part of the institution. They rush to defend every single action of their highly-paid players, no matter how indefensible. “Sure, he’s an a**hole, but he’s our a**hole” is not the argument you think it is. Nor is “everybody does it.” Shame has died. Fans expect nothing of their team’s players as people. They don’t care about what will happen to these guys after football at all. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that those players will only be around this season. Fans also desperately seek excuses for including their team in the playoff, or for their team refusing to play in a bowl. They don’t really love the game; they don’t even truly love their team. They care only about their team winning, not how, even if it’s to the detriment of the game. Even if it’s to the detriment of the school whose students pay fees to help underwrite the program. That kind of attitude will eventually, ultimately, lead to the demise of the sport. If college football truly is a fun, tradition-filled good time on a Saturday afternoon, then it’s time the fandom stop worrying so much about polls and committees, and just enjoy the experience. Support the team, win or lose, and be honest with yourselves about your team, its players, and where all of this should fit in your lives.

Obsession with Politics: Speaking of attitude ultimately leading to demise, next on my list of grievances is politics – specifically, obsession with politics. And granted, this topic could turn into a screed about a consummate narcissist who seeks to make everything about him, but I don’t want to talk about a**holes. Griping about a**holes is like complaining about bad weather – it’s (they’re) always going to be there, so the best response is honestly to just put on a coat, carry an umbrella, or otherwise take measures to cope with it (them) and get on with your life. And frankly, I don’t even want to talk about the media’s obsession with a specific a**hole, allowing him to dominate the news cycle with his narcissism and grift. Maybe another time.

No, I’m talking about someone you know…maybe someone you know well. Could be a relative. Could be a friend. This person is constantly obsessed with a political ideology, party, figure, or narrative, much like the worst college football fan is constantly obsessed with their team’s record or stats. Moreover, this person views literally everything in life through an imaginary litmus test born of that political obsession. They don’t want to watch that particular TV show because it has that actor who offended their political sensibilities 20 years ago. They won’t listen to that music because that singer said something mean about “their president” at some point. They won’t eat that food because some ingredient is primarily produced in some nation whose prime minister doesn’t like their favorite politician or share their political viewpoint. They announce to the world that they hereby refuse to visit this city or that state because they’ve elected a particular person or approved a particular policy. They view themselves as constantly under attack – because they’re Christian, because they’re not Christian, because they’re a Republican, because they’re a Democrat, because they work in [insert industry name here], because they’re part of some minority, because they’re a bald white overweight incel, because…, because…, because… And since they’re constantly under attack, they are constantly a victim of…something. And because they are constantly a victim, there’s always something dramatic to address, to discuss, to obsess over, centered solely on their politics. It is exhausting, much like it’s exhausting to hear a college football fan gripe about how the refs hate their team, or the committee hates their school, or how horrible the players from that other team are, and on and on.

And you know what ought to be exhausting? Living your life against a perpetual political backdrop. Pulling out your proverbial litmus test for EVERYTHING. Living life this way makes it impossible to enjoy anything, and for the people truly in your life, it makes it impossible for them to enjoy being around you. You can’t just watch TV or listen to music. You can’t even go to church, lest the priest or preacher say something that offends your political sensibilities. You can’t just have a conversation and be happy that a college student enjoys a class. No, you’ve got to wonder how the class is “indoctrinating” the student. You’ve got to wonder whether the singer supports “your guy.” You watch that movie and complain that the hero(es) were or were not from a particular demographic. You’ve got to assume that somehow this president or that congressman has somehow harmed your life this week, this month, this year. You’ve got to decide if this religious figure, or pop cultural personality, or even family member in front of you shows appropriate fealty to your political icon or ideology. Politics is your religion, and that’s just sad.

If you’re reading the last two paragraphs and nodding your head with someone’s face and demeanor in your head, a word of advice: Let them go. Cut ties. Walk away. Maybe you can’t do it immediately, cold-turkey-style. But you have to get away from it. I know I do, and I am. Life is too short to be forced into vicarious drama driven by someone else’s obsession with their own political fantasies as they offer fealty to people who care not one bit about them or to ideology that is counter to what they need or desire. Sometime I will write a post about the absurdity of politics, but the bottom line is that government is a means to an end, political ideology is mostly nonsense, and none of it should dominate your life.

Terrible Social Media: And speaking of “vicarious drama,” I’ve got news for you about your social media feed – it is every bit as terrible as you think it is, unless you’ve worked hard to prune it and cultivate the content you actually desire to see. Why is it so bad? Because social media, as opposed to traditional media, has basically no barrier to entry. In the golden age of traditional media – we’re talking the days of only 3-5 TV channels and robust terrestrial radio on both AM and FM – content was vetted. Granted, there was a particular profile to the powerbrokers vetting that content, but still. Someone actually took the time to say “This can go on TV/radio; this cannot.” Granted further, not all of the people and content that actually made it to air were high-quality, but the vast majority that got airtime was better than what didn’t. Easily.

The proliferation of cable TV loosened the restrictions on what aired, but there still were, and are, people who vet the content. Journalism has suffered severely from this development because 24-hour news on cable means that so-called “news outlets” are constantly looking to fill airtime, and they’ve resorted to less-than-stellar methods. Giants like Walter Cronkite, Frank Reynolds, and Barbara Walters have given way to hacks that used to be relegated to syndicated late-night shows like A Current Affair. That’s what typically happens when the pool expands. More teams in a league dilutes the talent a bit, so players who might not really deserve to see the field end up playing. Sometimes the talent pool improves or reveals untapped sources that are worthwhile. Sometimes content rises to the occasion – after all, cable networks gave us The Sopranos, The Wire, Breaking Bad, and Homeland. Streaming services have given us Ted Lasso, Stranger Things, The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, and Severance. All was not lost with the advent of cable, because someone was still attempting to filter out the proverbial wheat from the chaff.

What has social media content given us? Chaff, and lots of it. Reaction videos. Videos claiming to show “the greatest {fill-in-blank] of all time” featuring something that occurred last week. Guys trying to explain movies from years ago that everyone’s already seen and understand. (Seriously, who on this planet needed to see a YouTube video breaking down the “Lone Pine Mall” joke from Back to the Future? Is anyone watching this movie that clueless?) People desperately seeking attention as influencers, and frankly, hopeful that they can earn a spot in legitimate, vetted media by getting noticed on a social media platform. Usually, they’re pretenders. Wannabes. Or maybe they seek to emulate Mr. Beast by generating more extravagant stuff that is still every bit as banal – but hey, they’ve maximized their revenue using the algorithm, so who cares what it is as long as it gets attention? Eyeballs, eyeballs, eyeballs. Subscribers. Views. Clicks. Feeding a financial bottom line, regardless of quality. Welcome to the 21st century. Yes, you can find some entertaining content from the likes of The Holderness Family and certain others, and occasionally there is a proverbial diamond-in-the-rough that might develop into something bigger, but the content you’ll find on social media is, for the most part…exactly what you should expect in a free, unvetted, unregulated environment. All the more reason to get annoyed when YouTube throws an ad in the middle of a video that is as awful as you suspect it is.

And yet, WE are the problem, because the algorithm will continue to feed us stuff when we click on it and linger for more than a few seconds. Sadly, watching someone cook sh**ty spaghetti on her kitchen counter using several jars of Ragu, even if you only stayed there to wonder WTF was happening, will only lead you to receive more videos like this over time. You and me – WE have to show discipline, move away, avoid clicking. It actually takes some work to show such restraint, to build and curate a feed that delivers, if not fulfilling content, at least content that isn’t excretory. The algorithm will feed you what you consume, so it’s up to you to fight the urge to consume junk content and focus on things that are actually appealing.

And that really is the key: with just about all Festivus Grievances, it comes down to one person – the one in the mirror. As much fun as it is to quote the great Jerry Stiller, issues complaints about the world, and act cantankerous at this time of year, when there seems to be so much to do in so little time, the irony of Festivus is that, at its core, it really is a response to how much society has twisted the Christmas season. The sentiment of the holiday fits the mindset of Seinfeld, which sought out comedy in shallow, self-absorbed people who were generally oblivious to the consequences of their actions. Yet instead, three decades later it seems like some people actually celebrate this shallowness and look at Seinfeld characters as a blueprint for how to live their lives. Elaine Benes famously and hilariously asked, “Is it possible I’m not as attractive as I think I am?” It was a subtle and brilliant commentary on her character, one that is lost way too often on all of us in this day and age. People don’t perceive the irony because they aren’t honest with themselves. This Festivus, maybe we should look inward, air our grievances to the mirror, and figure out over the next eight days how we’re going to resolve them in the coming year. Happy Festivus to all!

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Little Things That Matter

Next Tuesday 12/23 will be Festivus 2025 for those who celebrate, and as a longtime Seinfeld fan with a blog, I will definitely be engaging in the Airing of Grievances that day. But lest I seem like a typical curmudgeon who does nothing but grouse and complain in my blog, I want to use the space this week to express appreciation for lots of little things in the world. It’s not really a personal gratitude post like I made at Thanksgiving; this post is devoted to random good things I observe at times (and yes, I do manage to notice lots of cool things at least as much as I perceive idiocy). And it’s designed to acknowledge the benefit of such things.

Some of the items in this post may, no doubt, elicit cynical and/or negatives responses from some readers. That says more about the reader’s experience than anything else. Remember that I’m writing from the perspective of my own experience, mainly over the past year, but often over the course of several years. So if your experience is different, feel free to address it in your own Festivus Grievances next week.

Let’s dive right in—

Supportive Parents of School-Age Children: This thought actually originated in the fall when I was announcing marching band shows and witnessing multitudes of parents assisting in the parking lot and on the field. A typical marching band production costing thousands of dollars and involving hundreds of students could not happen without the service of these parents, and I wanted to acknowledge that. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that in every aspect of education, supportive parents are crucial. Much like with problem students, educators often end up devoting way too much time to dealing with problem parents – the ones who complain to the coach that their child isn’t playing enough, isn’t first chair, doesn’t make 100s on every assignment…you know the type. It’s time we acknowledge that we see the supportive parents, and we appreciate them. The parents who work with their children to reinforce good behaviors, to improve academic habits, and to practice more. The parents who always bring their children early to school and to events, and who are there on-time ready to take them home at the end. The parents who attend every game, every show, every performance, every concert, not to complain to the refs or the coaches, not to criticize the performance, but to cheer their child’s team, win or lose, to applaud the performance regardless of minor mistakes. The parents who take care of other children who need it. The parents who devote their time and energy to this school or this program because their child loves participating, and they want to help make it a good experience. These parents need to be seen and credited, and even though they can never be shown enough appreciation, they must know that there are countless teachers, coaches, directors, and other adults who value them.

City Services: I live in Arlington, Texas, and have since 1971. The city’s population has more than quadrupled in my lifetime. As much as people will recognize my hometown as the home of the Dallas Cowboys and Texas Rangers, or the home of Six Flags Over Texas, or the “Entertainment Capital of Texas,” or “The American Dream City,” there are factions that criticize Arlington for being too big now, or for not having enough culture, or a variety of other perceived shortcomings. And I have personally experienced times when I have been unhappy with street conditions and other aspects of the city. But in the end, what I’ve grown to appreciate about Arlington are the multitude of city services available here that are top-notch. For one, this city has an amazing selection of parks. I’ve become an avid walker and runner – typically 2+ miles of one or the other each morning – and I am fortunate that this city has at least a half-dozen parks accessible to me with excellent trails to pursue, all within a 10-minute drive from my house. Additionally, although we haven’t needed them this year (thankfully), we have had need of the Arlington Police and Fire Departments in years past, and they have also been amazing in our experience. My oldest son, who has autism, has a job for which he needs transportation, and we’re able to use Arlington’s Handitran service for him on roughly 95% of his work days. It’s safe, reliable, and cost-effective transportation for him. We’re grateful that it easily allows him to get to work, and it also gives him a level of independence rather than relying on his parents all the time. Speaking of transportation, I had occasion to ride the Trinity Railway Express into downtown Dallas recently for a voiceover event. TRE connects to the DART railway system in Dallas, and again – safe, reliable, cost-effective transportation. The one thing I still wonder about with Arlington is why we don’t have public transportation, and why we haven’t gotten connected to DART. It seems rather short-sighted to me that Arlington voters have denied access to service like this in the past, and I’m frankly disappointed that there are municipalities to the east who are actually considering abandoning DART. As someone who loves to visit New York, and who has no problem navigating that area’s subways and trains, I find the reliance on constant automobile transportation in Dallas-Fort Worth to be exhausting at times. So I would hope that any suburbs that break from DART pursue a different option. And I think it’s worth pursuing light rail as a city or even statewide service instead of just building another tollroad. Either way, I think Arlington’s city services are worth acknowledging, and I appreciate them daily.

Competent, Courteous Drivers: Because of the lack of public transportation options in my area, I find myself driving most of the time, as do most of the residents of the DFW area (and most of Texas, for that matter). And while it is proverbial low-hanging fruit to complain about clueless drivers (I will include a very specific grievance next week) all the time, I want to acknowledge the competent, courteous drivers, instead, in this space today. And I think there are actually more of them out there than we think. Again, we devote our energy to the problems without appreciating the level of quality actually on the road. Another recent experience: I also had to travel to downtown Dallas twice by car recently, and both times, I exited the city via the Woodall Rogers Freeway to I-35E. Anyone familiar with that area knows that the right lane entering the freeway also serves as the exit for traffic headed from I-35E to the Dallas North Tollway. So there’s a stretch of road with lots of merging – drivers like me moving one lane to the left while other drivers move one lane to the right. Let me tell you this: few things on any road are better than a dependable merging experience, where drivers are signaling, paying attention, matching speeds, and switching lanes simultaneously so that each gets where they need to be smoothly and safely. I experienced this on two consecutive days in Dallas, and both times, I waved to the drivers switching places with me to thank them. I hope they saw and appreciated this little thing as much as I did. I experience this frequently on I-20 in Arlington, as well, between Cooper St and Matlock Rd. There are far more courteous, competent drivers in those areas than there are bad ones. Sure, the bad ones going too fast and using lots of lanes draw our attention, but the good drivers need to greet each other more in solidarity. We need less honking, yelling, road rage, and all that entails on the road. We need more positive communication among the drivers for jobs well-done. Texas still has signs that say “Drive Friendly,” and we really should take more time to wave and acknowledge each other when drivers are doing things correctly.

Healthcare Professionals: I think this topic grows nearer and dearer to me as I age, but this year has been especially active for us when it comes to healthcare. I’ve already indicated the reasons why in my Thanksgiving post, and I also credited our excellent primary care physician. My wife worked with a host of healthcare professionals during her scans, biopsy, and surgery. I worked with several healthcare workers, as well. I had my first colonoscopy this fall. I realize that A) it means I’m old, and B) I probably should have had at least my second one by 57 years old. But I’m a bonafide coward who had put off the procedure, and I was quite nervous about it when the time came. Yet everyone I worked with through the process was patient and professional with me, compassionate about my trepidation and doing their best to assuage my fears. We’ve also worked with healthcare professionals who care for my mother, now 95 years old and living in hospice care in an assisted living facility. They care for her with an impressive level of integrity and grace. What I realize pondering all these experiences is just how exceptional everyone we’ve encountered has been. I’m talking every single individual – office staff, physician’s assistants, nurses, anesthesiologists, and of course, physicians…every one of these people we saw this year was terrific. Not once did we come across someone who seemed ornery, incompetent, flustered, frustrated, clueless, or even anxious. Anytime we dealt with healthcare professionals, it was clear that these people were, in fact, professionals. In retrospect, it was both astonishing and gratifying. At the same time, I’m frustrated for these people because we all know that the healthcare system in the US is, if not broken, then deeply flawed. Yet these workers continue to give excellent care within the confines of that system. That reflects a personal commitment that deserves a salute.

Event Planners: You might think, given how each of the previous items in this post seemed to imply a certain nobility, that this item seems odd. But hear me out on this. It’s easy to read the phrase “event planner” and conjure some type of pop cultural image, where the person involved is making massive sums of money managing lavish soirées. You know…the person wearing a headset to communicate with all the people under their charge as they give orders…in a movie, this person is typically a self-absorbed jerk, or the central character who’s too overworked and in need of some significant other to give life meaning, or perhaps even the comic relief. Maybe such people exist in the world, but the reality most of the time is that you’ve experienced the work of an event planner you’ve never seen, heard, or known. That person – a real person – earns a modest, nominal amount of money for the work, if any at all. Often, they’re either planning the event as an additional duty to their main job, or as a volunteer. And the goal of that individual is to craft and coordinate the best event possible for you as a member of a community. A show, a concert, a contest, a prom, a tournament, a spelling bee, a parade, a carnival, an athletic event, an awards program, a graduation. Someone is in charge of that event, trying to ensure that everyone involved knows what to do and actually does it when and how they’re supposed to. I often have the privilege of working with these people, because they need me to speak into a microphone at an appointed time to read a script, say a name, or deliver a message. I’ve talked in a previous post about how much I love contributing to a team in that role, but I also want to highlight here that we should all take opportunities to reflect on and appreciate the contributions of these people “in charge.” The vast majority are not doing it for large amounts of money; they’re doing it out of love for and commitment to the activity at hand and its participants. We, as citizens, community members, parents, family, and friends, desire to have memorable experiences for ourselves and our families, and that makes this work critical. Someone has to do it, and we should be appreciative of the people who step up and do.

Service Workers of all Types: Speaking of “someone has to do it,” let’s conclude by talking about service workers. My son, who I mentioned earlier, is one such worker. He’s one of thousands of workers in school cafeterias. For him, the work is stable and predictable, which is important for the nature of his autism; he craves routine. But from a broader perspective, I am quite proud of the work he does because anyone who’s spent time working in a school likely has an appreciation for all the work that goes into feeding the student population day-in and day-out. My own grandmother spent her career as a manager of a school cafeteria. Society often finds it easy to rag on the school lunch as something lame, but the truth is that it is extraordinary how well the system works. Heck, the general work involved in feeding the entire population of this planet, whether you’re talking about farming and ranching, fisheries, grocery stores, restaurants, food pantries, or anything else, is just this side of a miracle. And most of the people involved provide a service. And yet, for some reason American society so often looks down on them. Why? Why is it considered acceptable by some to denigrate the local barista or even the guy grilling burgers or making fries? Is it really OK to be awful to your server because the kitchen is slow? Is it acceptable to cuss out the fast food worker because they added mayo when you asked for none? Is it fathomable to look down on someone pouring your coffee when you work in an office job? Every single one of these people is a human being worthy of respect and dignity. The person changing your oil, rotating your tires, repairing your sink, replacing parts on your garage door, fixing the air conditioner, making your latte, cooking your food, bringing your food to the table, taking your garbage and recycling from your home, changing the sheets on your hotel bed, moving your baggage on and off the plane, serving your beer and hot dog. Humans. Every. Single. One. I don’t intend to get on a soapbox about living wages for all these people, but let’s at least commit to seeing them, recognizing their humanity, and showing some basic decency and respect.

The bottom line, in this post that preemptively seeks to counter the negative, albeit comedic, sentiments of Festivus, is that life is ultimately about trying to become a better person each day. Why bother getting up each morning if you’re not trying to become the best version of yourself? I think that’s why a different show, Ted Lasso, resonates so much with so many people, especially in this day and age. The central message of the show has always been to seek out the best version of us, to work constantly toward better. As someone who is acutely aware of the reality that I’m getting older and not, in fact, going to live forever, it’s all I really want now. I’m still going to have days when I falter in the quest to be a better person than I was yesterday, or last year, or last decade, or when I was only 30. But I’m still going to try. And particularly in this day and age, I think an important step in that direction is looking around and noticing the good things in this world. The little things. Noticing, acknowledging, and celebrating them.