Christian School Back Flip

Each year for at least the past three years, the local high school cheerleading coach has held a "cheer camp" for elementary school girls on a Saturday afternoon in February.  For about fifteen bucks, girls from grades 1-5 learn a simple routine and some of them even make a tumbling run or two.  Most importantly for them, they get a t-shirt and a chance to perform their routine at the halftime of a real basketball game.  As one might imagine, on the night of the performance the gym fills up with moms and dads and grandpas and grandmas with cameras in tow.  It is very cute, and I could very easily argue that the collective sense of worth and being part of a larger unit is very much worth it.

As a fifth grader, this was our daughter's last year.  She had her first basketball tournament in the morning but was adamant about going to cheer camp in the afternoon because--well, because she enjoys that kind of stuff, but also because she can tumble and she knows what that means:  a spot in the limelight.

Thus, at the end of the tumbling runs the night of the public performance, Sommer did a round off back tuck.  That's the term we use around our house, anyway, because that's what it's called in gymnastics jargon.  For everyone else--including me two months ago--it's a back flip.  She runs across the floor, plants her hands sidways on the floor, flips over them landing backwards on her feet, then uses that energy to back flip and land on her feet again. 

When she made her run, the crowd literally "oohed" as one voice.  To put it mildly, I was proud.

Of course, that back flip--I mean back tuck--didn't come from nowhere.  It's an investment:  3 sessions of beginning gynmastics, three years of dance.  I know the price tag on that back flip is significantly over $500, a middle class privilege.

Watching her do it, as I'll watch her again at this spring's dance recital, I have a hard time saying it's not worth it.  It's a combination of grace and power that I think is beautiful, and it's something she loves.

However, in saying that, I immediately realize that it ties me into the narrative about parenting that drives my generation--or perhaps just my socioeconomic tier:  For today's parents, "opportunites" are what matters.

And this is where the narratives get tangley, methinks, because I'm also a Christian school supporter.  For if "opportunities" are what matters but if I also send my kids to a small Christian school where opportunities are limited, then I'm over a barrel.

No doubt this conflict used to be simpler.  Opportunities mattered less than "the story" of Christian schooling.  However, arguably "the story" itself forced this conflict, for "the story" of Christian schooling includes bringing "all areas of life" under Christ's Lordship.  Unavoidably, however, there are "areas" that get preferential treatment in Christian schools:  certain forms of music, certain forms of sports, certain other arts, as money allows and cultural popularity demands. 

Over the years, the local Christian high school has lost a few students here and there to football, but that's been about it.  Repeatedly, too, the local public school has asked to pair with the Christian school, to no avail.  Why?  Because of this emphasis on narrative difference:  "the story" the Christian school tells is by nature unique. 

That all changed this past winter when, in a move that was unprecented locally, the Christian school went to the public school about pairing.  Needless to say, they accepted.  For the first time this spring, public school students will be able to join Christian school golf and track teams, and the Christian school kids will be able to play softball and baseball with the public school.

What precipated this sea change?  Long time teacher, coach, and athletic director Darrel Ulferts once speculated to me that "parents today just want activities for their kids."  Part of the answer, then, is that the Christian school is trying to stop the bleeding.  More students, it seems, are choosing activities over "the story."  I know of two girls who will go to public schools in the name of gymnastics.  Others are staying in local towns like Pipestone and Worthington because the activities plus convenience equal a package they can't refuse--one that they prefer over "the story."

No, that's not quite true.  It's not that they're necessarily sacrificing "the story," but that they feel they don't need the school as institution to tell the story--they feel they can sufficiently tell "the story" within their family and church.

And so the move to pair by the Christian school is a move to survive, but it's also a move to redefine what "the story" is and how we tell it in the current culture.  In greater Christianity as well, there is a move afoot toward "culture making," which happens to be the title of an influenial book by Andy Crouch, one that has found its way into the curriculum of Christian colleges.  (I should know; I teach it).

With these trends abroad, I applaud this move by the local Christian school.  If Christian schools are to survive in a climate where parents take seriously that all areas of life belong in the kingdom, then Christian schools will have to find new ways to allow students to move into multiple areas.  However, they also must show how important their part in telling "the story" is. 

So, back to Sommer's back flip--and, more importantly perhaps, to the cheer camp.  In finding another place to showcase a talent, the school engaged both my daughter and a current cultural trend.  However, equally as important is how they encapsulate that talent in "the story":  there is a place for back flips in the Christian school not because parents are hyper-concerned that their individual child might have a "look-at-me" moment, but because all areas of life are created by God, all moments of human grace are part of humans being made in God's image. 

But this narrative is communal narrative.  And I say that the more people that are involved in it--family, church, and school community--the better.  However, this is a case the Christian school must be able to make loud and clear as well, lest the clamor for activities that feature "my unique and special child" drown out the more important--the all important--Story.