how much is too much?

I teach a sports writing class to a bunch of rich kids. Every day that I teach that class I am reminded of the economic inequalities that are perpetuated in our society. I'm not bullshitting when I say that 5 of the kids in my class have parents who are known millionaires. Not 6 figures...millions. One of my students has been on MTV Cribs...he's the kid with the deer in his house. I have a kid who misses class to fly to Texas for football games (on a private jet). Another student drives a Range Rover on 22's with a Superman symbol on the front grill...she got the Range at her Sweet 16 birthday party after a performance from Omarion. The great thing about the class (and my school in general) is that we also have some kids who are on financial aid. They are from families who are scraping together every dollar they can to pay their tuition. It makes for an interesting mix.

Recently we watched a documentary about two kids from inner-city Chicago who had aspirations to make it to the NBA. The film sparked some discussion about whether or not kids from wealthy neighborhoods have a better chance to be successful than poor kids. The students in my class said things like:

*The kids in the film are able to deal with more adversity as a result of their surroundings.
*It doesn't matter if you're from the upper, middle, or working class; it's your work ethic that makes the difference.
*Kids raised the middle class have it easier. Rich kids have more support and more options, but they still have to work to make things happen in life.
*Rich kids tend to get lazy, because they know everything will be taken care of.

I was surprised by the variety of responses that I got from this group of kids, some of which do not understand the head start they have. I was also shocked by how many of them do understand the advantages they have.

Anyway, that's not he point here. The point of it all is that yesterday I met two women who want badly for their daughters to be great basketball players. I met them during a skills clinic at my school that my varsity girls coach offers every Saturday. In a brief conversation the women informed me that they both drive 2 hours each way every Saturday to bring their daughters to our gyms. That was astounding, but what they said next is stuck in my head:

"It's worth it!" they both said with smiles on their faces. "It's worth it."

I walked out of the gym thinking, "Is it really worth it?" I go to some extreme measures to make sure my kids are competitive and that they have access to things to make them better. But would I drive four hours round trip each week for a 90-minute skills clinic? I thought about it, then I felt a twinge of guilt. I knew that my ten-year-old daughter was at home eating chips and dip, watching Hannah Montana. DAMMIT!

I thought about the number of people that do not have the resources to drive their daughters on 4-hour excursions every week. I thought about the single mothers out there who may have the desire but not the time. Then I thought about every great basketball player that I knew as a teenager. 85 percent of them figured it out on their own. They got up early and worked on ball handling. They played all day anywhere there was a game. They put up hundreds of shots everyday. Their parents didn't drive them to clinics every Saturday. They had a fire burning inside of them that poverty could not extinguish. In my neighborhood we put on our own clinics. But sadly enough, my transition into middle class America has taken me further away from that mindset than I would like to admit.

Everything in this new world is "organized." Kids have trainers and year-round competitive teams. Everyone goes to camps and personal workouts. Parents spare no expense to make their kids dreams come true. My problem is that I still have the North Toledo mentality: if you want to be good, you have to fight for it. But I do understand that there has to be a balance. But where do I draw the line? How much is too much? I will let you know when I figure this one out.