Getting young people ready for the workaday world

Perhaps one of the most jarring things that a young adult may experience is entering the full-time job market for the first time. I'm not talking about jobs during high school, like mowing lawns in the summer, working at McDonald's, or the like.

No, this is showing up at work each day on time, in which you're immersed in a culture you surely don't understand at first, and the rules aren't clear. Some young people appear to get it right away; others don't. The lack of structure and confusion about expectations of you is a big factor.

So I applaud those who would recognize the issue and do something about it. And so it was that I attended my second professional interview day at Allen Park High School yesterday. The deal was that high school students, at best one or two with an interest in my current journalism career, would show me their resume, and I would ask questions to see whether they were prepared and qualified.

I met those with a clear-eyed vision of where they wanted to go and what they wanted to do - teach, become a doctor, go into the military - and others who had interests that they considered doing as a career, but the path from A to B wasn't entirely clear to them. All of them planned to go to college, a couple to a nearby community college.

We were in the gym, at separate tables, and the juniors would approach us, introduce themselves, and we'd get started. The dress code was all over the map: from suits and ties to casual work dress to shorts and t-shirts.

I spoke with one young man yesterday who said on his resume that, after a neighbor moved away and the house was left empty for a few months, that he took care of their lawn. There was no compensation; the owners were gone.

Why? I asked. "I just wanted to be a good neighbor," he said. From the resume, the kid had a GPA well above 3.0. I want that kid on my team.

On other resumes, words were misspelled, and I corrected the words.

I often asked about the last book they had read. Evidently, these juniors had just finished reading "Great Expectations" by Charles Dickens in English Class, so I began to ask the last book they had read outside class. One young man told me he liked to read history books, and he shared them with his Dad.

When the students were ushered into the gym, before they approached us for interviews, they sat on the bleachers, talking with each other, looking at us from across the gym. Their appearance, their demeanor was so refreshing: so thin! so relaxed! so, well, young!

I wish them the best, and I commend the APHS staff for the idea and its execution. Well done.

Riding on the backs of young adults

Young voters turned out in record numbers in the 2008 presidential election, the most since 1972, when 18-year-olds were first able to vote.

According to U.S. News, from a story published in Nov. 2008, "Up to 54.5 percent of Americans ages 18 to 29 voted on Tuesday, just 1 percentage point shy of youth voter turnout's all-time high in 1972, according to preliminary reports. They made up a higher proportion of the electorate—18 percent—than the 65-and-older age category, which accounted for 16 percent.”

“And they leaned overwhelmingly toward the Democratic ticket. For every one vote cast for John McCain, two young people cast votes for Obama.”

Presumably, disaffection with the Republican Party, John McCain’s failure to capture the imagination of young voters, disenchantment with the war in Iraq and dismal job and career prospects, and the “hope and change” mantra of the Obama campaign fueled this surge of young voter support for Obama.

How ironic, then, after owing so much of his electoral victory to young adults, that he wod target the young to achieve his agenda, in two ways.

The first way was to design health care legislation afforded largely on the backs of young people, who will have choice snatched from them.

The second way is by ignoring another issue that looms larger each day; and left holding the bill will be our sons and daughters and grandchildren.

The first is the new health care legislation. The primary targets of the individual mandate are the young, some of whom may delay purchasing health insurance because 1) they’re currently healthy, and 2) they need or want the money for other things.

Not so fast, says the Obama administration: if we’re to provide health care to everyone, particularly those who can’t afford it, or those for whom health and illness is a big issue (say, senior citizens), then someone is going to have to pay for these privileges.

And therein lays the difference between a right and a privilege: rights are free; privileges must be paid for.

In this case, young adults will be compelled to purchase health insurance, whether they choose to or not. It’s the only way that it can be afforded, by exacting taxes or penalties on those who won’t on average break the bank, because the young get seriously ill far less often.

Seems like a crummy way to reward your political supporters. Presumably the betting is that either young adults won’t notice the new decline in their salary, or perhaps be altruistic enough to blithely ignore it.

The second issue that will be solved on the backs of young adults are benefits for older folk like me: Social Security and Medicare.

You’ve probably heard an oldster or two insisting that they paid into Social Security and Medicare for years, and now they’re simply collecting.

Only partly true: the benefits that I will collect from these entitlements will be more than I paid in throughout my career. Young people will pay for the rest of my coverage.

And here’s the secret that most politicians don’t dare mention: the demographics in the future will be a non-starter to continuing this Ponzi scheme. A growing cadre of older people can’t be sustained by a shrinking group of younger people, thanks to millions of separate personal decisions aided by birth control and abortion.

It can’t be afforded unless something major happens. And it is a political grenade whose pin has been pulled. Someone like Congressman Paul Ryan in Congress has the courage to run forward and deal with it, attempting to save everyone else, and he’s accused of rolling Grandma off a cliff?

And either it will happen now, which will be a bit easier, or it will happen later, when our collective backs are against the wall. The way we’re going, I’m betting on the latter course, because Obama and Co. don’t want to face the issue, particularly in an election year.

But political and, more importantly, moral courage demand that it be addressed, and soon.

Jerry LaVaute is a special writer for Heritage Media. Follow his “Pa’s Blog” at http://jlavaute.blogspot.com. He can be reached at glavaute@gmail.com or call 734-740-0062.

Quoteworthy: A Prayer for Owen Meany

Once in a while, I run into a book or a movie or music that shifts my perspective, makes me see things in a different light; opens up new ways of thinking. "A Prayer for Owen Meany," by John Irving, was such a book.

Here is the opening sentence:

I am doomed to remember a boy with a wrecked voice - not because of his voice, or because he was the smallest person I ever knew, or even because he was the instrument of my mother's death, but because he is the reason I believe in God; I am a Christian because of Owen Meany.

Years later, the words reverberate for me. What an adventure follows for the reader, I thought. I skimmed the first eight pages this morning, and I laughed out loud twice, in public.

A little recommendation for some off-center summer reading. Be patient.

Come look at this! or, the soul of a teacher, part II

In Journalism, you're told not to use exclamation points. Among the Heritage Media Staff, we've discussed it and actually joked about its use at editorial meetings.

So when I exchange emails with a school teacher to schedule an interview or to ask or answer a question, I'm often tickled by the number of exclamation points that are used. In one recent note from a teacher, I counted six exclamation points after a single sentence. Six! (oops.)

Now, this Edgemont teacher had recently been nominated for teacher of the year for the third time. Committed, passionate, driven: you can see it in her writing.

Yesterday, I figured out why. Teachers spend much of each day working with children to see that they grasp concepts and facts. It's a little like my teaching my grandson Noah how to throw or catch a ball.

It is amazing the sophistication of motor skills required to do that. Adults have long since taken it for granted in their lives, but try to teach it to a two-year-old and you begin to understand. The act of releasing the ball at the right time as it's being thrown is not automatic. It needs to be taught, and teaching takes patience and commitment.

It also takes a bit of faith. You're taking a leap that your student will get it: that he will understand the point, will enjoy it, will release the ball at the right time. For the longest time, Noah would would reach behind himself, ball in hand, and as his arm whipped forward to throw the ball, he would open his hand prematurely and release the ball behind his head. It was pretty comical, but puzzling. I mean, c'mon! You're two years old, already!

I realized recently that teachers do this all day long, for several hours each day, with about 30 different children. Some of the stuff surely is rote, a reinforcement of what most have already learned, before you move on to the new stuff.

But some may not have yet gotten it, so you need further work with them, and the need to teach them new stuff is always just around the corner. So you work with your students, teaching in a manner which has worked in the past, trying to be engaging so you command their attention.

And one of the natural approaches is to create excitement. The use of exclamation points in your teaching is a small way to create that excitement, and a teacher will pull out every tool in her or his toolbox to drive that message home.

And then, when they do get it, when the light goes on, you want to call attention to your victory. Not for you, so much - it's what you do - but to your young charge.

Come look at this!!!!!! you say. See what he or she did!!!!!!! They got it!!!!!!!

It's a little like the basketball coach watching a player at the end of the game at the free throw line. There's 0:01 left on the clock. The score is tied; a single point will win it.

With the young person at the free throw line, you've tried everything: overhand, underhand, deep breaths, repetition. It's been largely frustrating. And now the game is on the line.

Up the ball goes, arcing toward the net. Swish! It drops down through the strings, and the game is won. Now, that's good, but as the coach, the key thing, the thing that really lifts you, that makes it all worthwhile, is that the lesson took. The student learned.

Teachers get that every day, every hour in the classroom. It has to be one of the most rewarding parts of their job, and no wonder. Come look at this!

My unique journey through Lent

My Lenten commitments for the last several years have been nothing to write home about. I commit to something or other, and when I arrive at the Triduum and reflect back on what I've learned or how I've changed, I have precious little to show for it. I'm disappointed in myself, but life goes on, eh?

Usually, it's a behavioral thing I try to change, but those are resistant to change; they're habits - they're who we are. Despite this, I decided this Lent to try to be less judgmental and friendlier toward everyone, especially strangers.

I had a weight loss goal, on which I've failed so miserably that I've actually gained weight, although I have a specific plan after Lent that may produce some results.

And, practically or, say, liturgically speaking, I decided to attend daily Mass, and to go on retreat, which I went on yesterday. It helps to have a flexible job schedule to do this. I know I'm very fortunate in that regard.

Interestingly, though, I've realized through thinking about it at Mass, and particularly at yesterday's retreat, that I've been extraordinarily lucky in my life. But luck comes and goes, doesn't it?

As I think about it, maybe a better word is blessed. Now, on a daily basis, I see the world and my role in it through a secular prism. My behavior is guided far more by secular humanism, a very fine thing, than it is by a relationship with the Holy Trinity. I mean, that's difficult even to understand, to grasp. Given that, how do you develop a relationship with it?

Well, it's begun. I don't really understand it, and I'm a bit put off by it. I have no idea where it will end, but I've decided to run with it for a bit. We'll just let it play out, by further practice at what I've begun to do.

I was sitting in Mass yesterday after the retreat that immersed me among about 40 like-minded folk for several hours, and I sang and listened to a hymn whose lyrics I didn't recall ever seeing, although the melody was familiar, and very pretty.

As we sang each verse, I thought, Dear God, He's speaking to me! Note the capital letter "H." Yes, that He.

It was at once alarming and affecting, but I realize more each day that it's part of a journey in which we puzzle over what it means. Some of it we spend in isolation; some of it we share with others.

Today, I share with you the second verse of the "Covenant Hymn," which got to me so powerfully in Mass yesterday:

Whatever you dream, I am with you, When stars call your name in the night.

Though shadows and mist cloud the future, Together we bear there a light.

Like Abraham and Sarah we stand, With only a promise in hand.

But lead where you dream: I will follow. To dream with you is my delight.

Have a great day.

Basketball walk

I've examined this photo for months now. To me, the facial expression is fascinating. What does it remind you of? I see curious. I see eager. I see a young boy filled with potential, whose life I hope will be filled with goodness, love and adventure. God bless you, Noah.

Amma and Pa's recent visit to Noah featured delightful weather, and a little boy who is adventure, who is fun, and never stops, except when we insist that he eats something, and takes a nap.

Yesterday it was basketball, in fact all sorts of balls - tennis, soccer - at play. Noah has a small basket into which he's able to dunk a ball, but he made a couple attempts at the official 10 foot high basket yesterday. That need a little work.

I kicked the ball over toward the fence, and encouraged him to kick it against the fence, catch the rebound with his foot, and whip it back against the fence, hard, trying all the time to control the ball. It's how his Dad learned to be a good soccer midfielder. Matthew was able to remove the ball from contention with one hard well-placed kick, and change the direction of a game in an instant.

A little later, Noah led me on a walk around the garage. There are narrow alleys to the right of and behind the garage. We began by walking through a bed of volcano rock down a corridor that was about four feet wide, made a sharp left and reached a patchy area of grass behind the garage.

As we made our way toward the open backyard and the lush open grass, he began to run and to yell. I did the same and began to run and yell myself. We did it many more times together, and I began calling it the "basketball walk." I told Noah that we would use the walk to build our stamina and agility, so that we would become better basketball players.

A little later, I began running sideways on the grass, like sliding during basketball practice, and he loved it. He began doing it too, and we had the best time.

After he went inside and took his bath, we played with a beach ball in the living room. After working on this for a few months, he has learned how to catch the ball, and to throw it back to me. He puts the ball behind his head, and has now learned to release it at the right point so it flies toward me, instead of off into space.

When Amma and Pa bid him goodbye, it was as if we were saying farewell to someone with whom we'd just shared a great daylong adventure, like a whitewater rafting expedition. It was that much fun.

Please be careful of pedestrians and bikers

I ran for 15 years, and biked for a few years. I know the hazards of being out there with drivers of automobiles whose first thought may not be avoiding the runner or the biker alongside then, or who suddenly appears in front of them.

As a driver of an automobile, I'm sometimes guilty of it too. Yesterday, I drove past a poignant memorial at the northwest corner of Haggerty and Michigan, a remembrance of a young lady's untimely death, and a reminder to please be careful with those just outside our vehicles.

When I approach an intersection, I look left and right and ahead to spot pedestrians. Runners and bikers have a way have a way of suddenly appearing, and you realize after a few close calls that you should have been more careful, paid more attention.

The burden, I think, falls on runner and bikers as well. I used to ensure I had eye contact with the driver of the vehicle before I proceeded to cross its path.

Let's watch out for each other.