Sunday, November 7, 2010
Who cares about perfection?
Zenyatta probably will retire now. Her final record was 20 starts, 19 wins and 1 second. The little-known back-story is that, after her 10th consecutive win, her owners became obsessed with her "perfect" record, and decided to run Zenyatta against the same or weaker competition time after time (except in last year's Breeders' Cup Classic, when most of her competition was severely compromised by a new artificial surface, on which Zenyatta had usually run). Zenyatta's lore blossomed, as the media kept drilling and repeating the word "perfection" along with the word "greatest". Overlooked was the more important term: "context". As Zenyatta racked up a string of victories against minor-league competition, through the practically unprecedented number 19, her legion of fans continued to grow, as did the hyperbole of "greatest of all time". Zenyatta's owners consistently skipped over races in which Zenyatta would have to face "the boys", a feat that is commonplace among better mares around the world.
Yesterday, though she finished second, her mettle was finally tested on a fair dirt surface against the best competition that she had ever faced. Though she is not the greatest horse who ever lived (see Secretariat, Man O' War, Citation, or Kelso, and you will LAUGH at the feeble accomplishments of ANY modern racehorse), she showed something far more important: that she could run, perhaps outrun, any horse of her era on a dirt surface (she has never run on grass- they should give her a chance to do so).
The same ethic applies to students. Many students can maintain a "perfect" 4.0 (or 4.3 or 5.0 or 8.0, whatever the ridiculous standard of perfection) by taking a suitably easy, unchallenging, grade-inflated course of (non)study. Such a path does not prove much of significance.
The more legitimate, worthwhile, and significant academic schedule is one that challenges a student to develop her/his abilities, though along the way the student may perform less than "perfectly"; the student might even encounter the greatest figurative teacher in existence: failure. There is nothing wrong with seeing what your limits are at a given point in your life, and then to take that feedback to readjust your schedule and pace.
Sometimes, you will be pleasantly surprised, other times you will be disappointed and forced to reassess your goals, but at least you should be proud that you did not waste your time excelling at very little.
Who knew that horseracing could teach people a lesson?
Yesterday, though she finished second, her mettle was finally tested on a fair dirt surface against the best competition that she had ever faced. Though she is not the greatest horse who ever lived (see Secretariat, Man O' War, Citation, or Kelso, and you will LAUGH at the feeble accomplishments of ANY modern racehorse), she showed something far more important: that she could run, perhaps outrun, any horse of her era on a dirt surface (she has never run on grass- they should give her a chance to do so).
The same ethic applies to students. Many students can maintain a "perfect" 4.0 (or 4.3 or 5.0 or 8.0, whatever the ridiculous standard of perfection) by taking a suitably easy, unchallenging, grade-inflated course of (non)study. Such a path does not prove much of significance.
The more legitimate, worthwhile, and significant academic schedule is one that challenges a student to develop her/his abilities, though along the way the student may perform less than "perfectly"; the student might even encounter the greatest figurative teacher in existence: failure. There is nothing wrong with seeing what your limits are at a given point in your life, and then to take that feedback to readjust your schedule and pace.
Sometimes, you will be pleasantly surprised, other times you will be disappointed and forced to reassess your goals, but at least you should be proud that you did not waste your time excelling at very little.
Who knew that horseracing could teach people a lesson?