Things I Don't Understand (Bryce Harper Edition)

I was sitting at my desk, working on some research for an article I'm writing, and something occurred to me:  I'm in the wrong line of work. If only I were a professional athlete, instead of a professor, then I might really be making the big bucks. It was announced earlier today that the Philadelphia Phillies are about to pay free-agent outfielder Bryce Harper $330 million for a thirteen year contract.  And last week, another outfielder, Manny Machado, signed with the San Diego Padres and got a contract that pays him $300 million for ten years. And it's not just major league baseball:  over in the National Basketball Association, the highest paid player is Golden State Warriors point guard Stephen Curry, whose $36 million annual salary may not sound like much, but it's part of a $201 million, five year contract. I could go on, but you get the idea.

I don't begrudge top athletes a huge payday-- although as a fan, it frustrates me that the price of tickets continues to climb. At Fenway Park in Boston, for example, the cheapest seats (way out in the bleachers) can cost about $30 (not including parking or food); grandstand seats are about $60; and box seats can be as much as $90, depending on who's playing. (Many other parks are just as expensive.) In other words, if parents want to take their kids to see a major league game, it can end up costing nearly $300... not something the average working person can afford.  And here's how things have changed: when I was fifteen years old, back in 1962, my father took me to a major league game and he paid about $2.25 each for grandstand seats. Those were the days.

But this is what absolutely mystifies me:  why do we pay professional athletes so much, and teachers and professors so little by comparison?  Yes, I know there are so-called "celebrity professors" who make huge salaries, but they are the exception.  Salaries for college instructors are often so low that they have to cobble together assignments at three or four schools, just to make ends meet.  As for elementary, middle-school, and high school teachers, their salaries in some cities are as little as $40,000 a year.  And as I've mentioned on more than one occasion, many teachers have to pay for school supplies out of their own pocket. And let's not even get into how little we pay the folks who teach for Head Start, or work in daycare centers. (By the way, teachers at Charter Schools aren't exactly getting rich either.)

And yet, as a culture, we claim that children matter. We insist we want the best for our kids.  We say we want them to have good teachers and go to successful schools.  And we expect that the teachers will work long hours and produce students who get good test scores. (By the way, test scores are not the only way to measure whether kids are learning, but that's a topic for another day.) So, how do teachers feel when professional teams come up with the money to pay a star athlete millions of dollars, but most school districts are constantly expecting teachers to do more with less? What message does it send when we value star athletes so much more than we value the folks whose job it is to educate our children?  I'm happy for Bryce Harper, and other talented professional ballplayers. But I truly don't understand why we wouldn't want to spend $330 million fixing up old public school buildings, buying new books and supplies, and upgrading teacher pay.  I'm sure someone has a good explanation for such skewed priorities. I'd be eager to hear it.       

The Importance of This Moment

As some of you know, my birthday was on Valentine's Day. My husband took me out to a well-known French restaurant, where we had a wonderful meal. And in the midst of enjoying a dinner that was fit for a gourmet, I couldn't help but notice something:  people were busy talking to each other.  I saw nobody on their phone, nobody texting, and nobody live-tweeting about their food.

I have to admit it made me smile, because it's something I don't see very often.  Whether it's a rock concert, or a nice dinner, or a movie, it seems some people can't leave their devices alone. They can't just enjoy what they're doing, and be happy with the moment they're in.  There's selfies to take and instant messages to send and emails to answer... and it absolutely has to be done NOW. And don't get me started about folks who feel they must respond to every text, even if they're driving. Never a good idea.

I understand wanting to share an experience with friends. If I see a great concert, of course I want to let people know. But I want them to know later-- after I get home. I mean, why spend your time texting instead of relaxing and immersing yourself in the event? I've been to see some amazing bands, and instead of enjoying the show, some folks seemed like they were preoccupied with posting comments on social media. I know because I saw their comments later on. (But I must admit, given the price of tickets these days, not watching a show you've paid for really makes no sense to me.)

Before I became a professor, I was in broadcasting and journalism.  I often had high-stress jobs, plus I always liked to get a lot done.  But even back then, I realized there were times when it was good to take a break.  As a radio consultant, I visited many different states; and my clients often wanted to show me the sights their city was famous for. I learned there was a time for business meetings, but there was also a time to enjoy a national park or a local museum or a popular place to eat. And while it might have been nice to take a photo with my smartphone, I'm glad I wasn't texting my way through each experience. Sometimes, rather than preserving an event, the device can distract from it.

And that brings me back to my birthday dinner. I rarely eat out at fancy places-- I'm more of a casual kind of person, and my tastes are pretty simple. But every now and then, it's nice to do something different, something special. However, for me, the experience itself was enough, and I had no desire to interrupt the mood by texting or tweeting about it. Agreed, I'm not a famous person, so perhaps few people care where I ate or who I saw. But my point is sometimes, the best thing to do is to enjoy the moment; allow yourself to experience it, and be grateful you're there.  That's what I did on my birthday, and I was glad to see I wasn't the only one.