标题: [This I Believe] 【整理】2016-05-01&05-07 教学相长 勤能补拙 [打印本页]
作者: qingchengshan 时间: 2016-5-1 08:00 标题: 【整理】2016-05-01&05-07 教学相长 勤能补拙
本帖最后由 qingchengshan 于 2016-5-10 15:42 编辑
English professor Nick Capo spent many evenings during his youth playing basketball with his father. Although he preferred volleyball and books, Capo saw his father’s drive to perfect his jump shot as an inspiration for how he could live his own life.
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In my mother’s house, a cedar chest sits in a bedroom corner. Six years ago, after my father died, my mother and I sorted its contents.
Inside, a fifty-year-old black notebook recorded my father’s basketball statistics and observations. Junior year of high school: Twenty-two points against Nativity; twenty-seven points against St. Francis. Forty-one points against Regina Coeli; the entire opposing team only scored forty-eight. His senior year: a seventeen-and-one team record; section champs. “High-points man,” again and again, but alternating with a teammate. They must have pushed each other.
Growing up, I knew my father was good at basketball. We spent many evenings after he came home from work on outdoor courts across the Pittsburgh area, shooting in fading sunlight, talking over the crickets, until night hid the ball from our eyes. After coaching me, he eventually would announce—apologetically—that it was time to work on a new shot or, usually, on his “jumper.” His jump shot was beautiful.
Those who play sports will understand: each sport has its techniques and its beauty. Watching the fluid execution of my father’s setup and release and the ball’s parabolic arc, hearing the ripping snap of a nothing-but-net basket was awesome.
Until I saw his meticulous notebook, though, I didn’t fully understand the intensity with which he studied the game or the depth of his passion for it.
Despite my father’s patient efforts, basketball never captured my imagination. Volleyball and reading did, however, and I have records of my own accomplishments. Some are statistics; some, photographs. My parents took one photo when I fell asleep after an exhausting tournament on—in—a plate of spaghetti. Another is a memory of my dad shaking me from a book and saying, “Dinnertime.” When I said, “Already?” he laughed so hard and long that tears rolled down his cheeks. I had been reading for eight hours.
This is how it’s done, I must have realized, while watching my dad nail thousands of jump shots. If you want to play well, if you want to excel at something, you put in the time. You sweat and struggle when most other people aren’t. You practice.
Now, as a college English professor, I know more about how people succeed: they form good habits. During the semester, I take students to computer labs and let them write for one hour. Most days I witness the shift from distraction to concentration as joy captures their minds. “Okay, now count your words,” I say. “That’s your day’s work.” I praise specific accomplishments—the ones in which they invested many hours or risked public exposure. “Well done,” I told the junior surprised by winning the local library’s fiction contest. “Your hard work paid off.”
Pride in achievement. Joy in effort. Work as play. My father never attended college, but he knew these truths. He learned them on the basketball court, and he taught them to me.
So I believe in teaching and learning. I believe in practice and hard work. And, finally, I believe in the determined pursuit of excellence.
作者: oliveleu886 时间: 2016-5-9 16:28 标题: [Homework]2016-05-01&05-07 教学相长 勤能补拙
And this brings me to what i believe.
i believe that life is a spiritual struggle.
i believe in being gracious to others.
i believe in the power of science fiction.
i believe in singing badly.
i believe that God lives in the space between people.
i believe in so much more than freedom of speech, and i believe that it is time we all took a stand.
this I believe
It is easy to see why so many people are captivated by basketball at this time of year.The game combines grace and strength, strategy and athelticism in equal measure, and there is nothing more agonizing in sports than watching the ball hang on the rim as time went down.Across the coungtry, kids can run outside after the game,and recreate their favourite moments. All they need is a patch of pavement, a hoop, and inspiration.As a child, this I believe essayist Nick Cappo didn't have to look far to find a sweet shot.
At my mother's house, a cyder chest sits in the bedroom corner.6 years ago, after my father died, my mother and I sorted its contents. Inside, a 15 year old black notebook recorded my father's basketball statistics and observations.Junior year of high school,22 points against Nativity, 27 points against Saint Francis, 41 points against Virginia Kelly,the entire posing team only scored 68.
His senior year, a 17-and-1 team record, section champions,high points man,again and again,but alternating with teammates.They must have pushed each other.
Growing up, i knew my father was good at basketball. we spend many evenings after he came home from work on outdoor courts across Pittsburg area, shooting in fading sunlight until night hid the ball from our eyes. After coaching me, he eventually would announce, apologetically,that it was time to work on a new shoot, or usually on his jumper.Watching the full execution of my father set up and release, and the ball's parabolic arch,hearing the ripping snap of nothing but that basket was beautiful. Until i saw his meticulous notebook though, i didn't fully understand the intensity of which he studied this game, or the depth of his passion for it. Despite my father's patient efforts, basketball never captured my imagination, volleyball and reading did, however. and i have records of my own accomplishments, some are artisitics,some photographs.My parents took one photo when i fall asleep after an exhausting tournament on make that in a plate of spaghetti.Another is a memory of my dad shaking me from a book and saying Dinner Time. when i said already? he laught so hard and long that tears roll down his cheeks.I had been reading for 8 hours.
This is how it is done, i must have realized, while watching my dad nailed thousands of jump-shoots.If you want to play well, if you want to excel at something, you put in the time. You sweat, and struggle,when most other people aren't. You practice. Now as a cholleague English professor, i know more about how people succeed, they form good habit. During the semester, i take students to computer labs and let them write for one hour. Most days, i witnessed the shift from distraction to concentration as joy captured their minds.ok, now, calm your words.i say.that is your day's work. i praise specific accomplishments, the one in which they invest many hours or risk public exposure.Well done, i told the junior, surprised by winning the local liberary's fiction contest. Your hard work paid off. Pride and achievement, joy and effort, work as play. my father never attended college, but he knew these truths. he learnt them on the basketball court, and he tought them to me.
so i believe in teaching and learning, i believe in practice and hard work. and finally i believe in a determined pursuit of excellence.
Nick Cappo is an English professor at Illinois college,his essay was produced by John Gregory and Dan Gettaman.and it is featured in the forthcoming book this I believe on fatherhood. Next week we will hear from a psychologist who finds healing power in the silences of her therapy sessions. if you like to write an essay about the core belief that guide your life and submit to our series, go to this website thisibelieve.org.
This post was generated by put listening repetition system, Check the original dictation thread!
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