Faculty in first person

I have developed an obsession with a triangle. I blame Gary Hamburgh, Tim Windemuth, Ralph Perrin, and Curtis Kuhlman, because it started in their classes when I was a physical education major at Walla Walla University. They took seriously the equilateral triangle in our school seal and did everything in their power to ensure that I took it seriously too. They challenged me to focus on what I consider the most important side of that physical, mental, spiritual triangle in order to encourage a truly balanced life in my students.

My obsession is renewed every fall when WWU faculty and staff read together the core themes, philosophy, and vision of Walla Walla University, and again in the spring when the school seal on Centennial Green provides the backdrop for sending a fresh batch of alumni out into the world. The philosophy statement we recite draws from Ellen White’s book Education: “… every person is created in the image of God as a being of inestimable value and worth, imbued with powers of intelligence, stewardship, and creativity akin to those of the Creator.” She goes on to say that educational institutions are to “send forth men [and women] strong to think and to act, men [and women] who are masters and not slaves of circumstances, men [and women] who possess breadth of mind, clearness of thought, and the courage of their convictions.” This is what has motivated me to be a physical educator for the last 30 years, and this is why I am convinced that physical education is the most important area of study on this campus.

Let me explain. No, there is too much. Let me sum up.

Everything in life is experienced through our physical bodies. Everything! Our senses of sight, smell, hearing, taste, and touch are all physical processes. From noticing that vision of loveliness across the cafeteria, to walking across campus to the next class, to the lightbulb moment of finally understanding that concept in physics class—everything we do or experience happens through our physical bodies. It’s not just that the mental and spiritual aspects of our existence are enhanced by a healthy body, it’s that they are dependent on a physical body to exist. You can’t even read these words or form an opinion about them without the physical processes of neurotransmitters, ions, and semipermeable membranes doing their physical thing over and over. And it only works if a variety of physical properties (sodium, calcium, potassium, etc.) are balanced within an optimal range. Because of this, anything that contributes to the optimal functioning of the body enhances our ability to engage in all our other pursuits. Literature, science, history, music—all these important and worthwhile fields of study benefit from the body functioning at its highest possible level. A healthy body works better than an unhealthy body and contributes positively to anything you chose to do.

I have another obsession that is related to the first. I am fascinated by how people learn to do things. All kinds of things. In one of my classes we read and discuss a book by Geoff Colvin, Talent Is Overrated. In it, Colvin outlines the principles of deliberate practice that research has found to be the most effective way to get really good at something. I mean exceptionally good, like Jerry Rice-playing-football or Bach-composing-music kind of good. While the principles are relatively well understood, the challenge is learning to apply them to the wide variety of pursuits that occupy our time. This other obsession led me to spend a year studying how people learn to move and the neuromotor processes that control those movements. That experience resulted in a research project investigating the best way to learn to ride a bicycle that steers in reverse. Yes, it is every bit as bizarre as you think it would be and a lot more difficult. My research question explored whether whole or part practice methods are better when learning a novel variation of a well-learned skill. What I really want to know is the best way to teach people how to ride a bicycle, and the lack of empirical evidence to support either whole or part practice methods necessitates this first step down that path of discovery.

As with most research, I raised as many questions as I answered, but while I was being entertained watching my participants struggle to learn the skill (I got really good at laughing on the inside), I also saw a powerful example of the remarkable adaptability that people possess. The first faltering efforts that sent study participants crashing into the walls were eventually replaced with remarkably smooth and controlled riding. It reminded me of David’s words in Psalm 139:14: “I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful … .”

After 30 years I’m still obsessed with the triangle. The triangle matters. If I want to pursue excellence in thought, generosity in service, beauty in expression, and faith in God, the triangle matters. If I want to send forth graduates who possess breadth of mind and clearness of thought, the triangle matters. I’m fortunate enough to work in the best department on campus. Yes, my colleagues are awesome. Yes, we get to play a lot. Yes, we have fantastic students. But in addition to that, I get to work in a place that takes the school seal seriously. Helping to train the next generation of health and physical education professionals to share my obsession seems like a worthwhile thing to do. It’s my way of passing on what I learned here at WWU, and it’s what I hope to be doing until I can learn how everything is really supposed to work from the one who created it all.