I miss running 10-in-60's on the basketball court. Visiting the opposite baseline every 5 or so seconds, then exhaustively engaging in playful banter, such as, "See you later," before darting to the other end. It is grueling, and definitely not fun, but I miss it.
The baseline is where you start. The baseline is where you finish. But no one makes a delicate approach when the sprints are finishing. You always overshoot. If it is a dead stop on the baseline, it doesn't feel like you actually made it. The baseline is where you finish, but it isn't that simple. A line is soft. One-dimensional. Very unimposing. The baseline holds stark contrast to every other line on the court. It is a wall. When you finish that last length, you lower your head and you assault the formless barrier which is so imposing. If you walk it in, you'll know that you didn't really breach the baseline. You just folded under it.
Now, if any of the KU basketball players were on my reading list, I feel like I would have relevant things to tell them about their baselines. Despite my repeated attempts, though, it seems they are not interested in letting a former NAIA D-II one-year varsity off-the-bench senior become their mentor (talking to you, Josh Selby). So, I'll adjust my pep-talk accordingly. (coincidentally, if you have Selby's email on hand, maybe you could forward it...)
I had little business becoming a deafblind educator. Indeed, professional deafblind educators probably scoff (nay, guffaw) at the proximity of my name to the classification. I am increasingly aligned with their sentiments. Still, when one enters the field of deafblind education, there are (for the most confounding of reasons) inevitably some parallels drawn between "one who administers education" and "an educator", as if the two are in any way similar.
So, as I have fumbled about, meandering along in my prolonged educatorial (smooth word) debut, I have tried to find my baseline. I find the experience akin to what I imagine it would be like to, overnight, be made aware that for no reason other than availability I had been given the nod to start for a revived Seattle Supersonics franchise. Then, while averaging a modest 1.1 ppg, 0.3 apg, 0.4 rpg in 38.6 mpg, and a tremendous assist-to-turnover ratio of 1.0: 38.5, retaining status as team captain and having carte blanche through an entire season. Then, to my surprise, winning MVP as the architect and floor general of the league's first, and very cavalier, 0-82 debacle of a campaign.
You look at the numbers. You look at the situation. And none of it adds up. That is how I feel in my job. Lack of experience and skill, poor performance, and excessive amounts of recognition and praise.
So, in the midst of this, I have looked for the baseline that I hold myself accountable to. And while I get better at my job, I begin to recognize an ever expansive set of needs. A deafblind young man, needing guidance in communication, independence, social relationships. Everyday I see new things to work on, without conquering the old obstacles. I am enveloped by it, while it simultaneously expands beyond me. It isn't static, nor do I know where to begin, or what the end would even look like. This baseline doesn't play by basketball's rules. So, at the epicenter of the this perceivably inflating responsibility, I am foundering and lacking direction.
My disadvantage, though, is that I didn't start this job with any point of reference. I was just thrown in. And now, a year and 3 months later, I am finally realizing that having goals is not the same as having direction. I can have the goal of reaching that baseline, and be sprinting with great fervor, but am probably running parallel to it. Good way to get burnt out. I want to stop, turn, and actually cross it. To not only know the goal, but to know the direction.
I am praying for direction, so that progress becomes meaningful rather than redundant. So, in Matthew 18:11, when it says, "For the Son of Man has come to save that which was lost." I feel like I could use some of that. Plus (no blasphemy intended), it provides a good basketball visual, with an mop-top, sweat-drenched, tube sock wearing, headband sporting Jesus diving across the baseline to save the ball which I so careless bounced off my foot. I can relate to that. I want my life to reflect gratitude and faithfulness for that sacrifice. Peace.
