We elected Barak Obama the night before as I flew from New York to Salt Lake. The next morning, the first snows of the year blanketed Utah. Thick wet flakes clung to the each street sign making it nearly impossible for me to find the middle school for our Nametags presentation. I drove around consulting the GPS on my phone, talking to Missy, executive director of the One Revolution Foundation and director of the Nametags Program. I sensed I wasn’t getting any closer, and apparently was correct, as Missy found out that the school had moved. Our directions were obsolete. So we arrived a little late, and the first presentation went by in a blur. Six hundred middle school kids in the auditorium, 45 minutes later and it was all over.

“That’s the best one you’ve ever done,” Missy said as we waited for the next group to enter. Considering that I’d arrived home at about midnight the night before and had driven around frantically all morning, “best ever” was a pretty big deal. I immediately wondered if I could maintain the same energy for the second event when the adrenaline inevitably waned.

We created the Nametags Program for a variety of reasons:

• Children’s minds are far more open than those of adults. Children want to ask questions, they want answers and they are open to different perspectives. Most adults, however, hold strong to beliefs that they created long ago. If we wanted to change perceptions we needed to start with children.
• We need fans. For our project to be successful we need fans. Students provide a great fan base.
• We didn’t want our presentations to be specifically about physical disability. I want it to be about all of our perceived shortcomings. There’s no better place in the world to feel like you have shortcomings than school.
• We wanted to look at our differences as indications of potential genius as opposed to reasons to be separate. It seems there’s such pressure to conform—to be like everyone else—but then we lose the unique part that makes all of us great.
• We wanted to foster an environment in which we could give and receive permission to be ourselves.
• Nametags are literally the labels that we put on ourselves and others.

Starting in the spring of ’08, we’d done about 20 Nametags presentations. All had been received well, but as the next group entered something different happened. I can’t say that there was a different feeling from the beginning. As usual, Missy and the teachers passed out one of four colored note cards to each student. With those cards I separated the students into four groups and asked why I had done it? Students offered ideas, and then finally I stepped in and asked if we could say it was arbitrary? Immediately, hands shot up asking what arbitrary meant. In hindsight their question should have foreshadowed that I was imposing my own educational paradigm on this group.

I quickly changed direction and said, “Can we assume that it’s chance? That there is no reason?” Heads bobbed up and down. Then a couple in the top right corner yelled, “No.” Perfect, I thought and asked, “Why can’t we assume that it’s chance?” This is great, I thought. We can have a conversation, but they wouldn’t answer. So, trying to get back on track I asked, “Can we assume that you received this card by random, by chance?” Those same guys, I couldn’t figure out exactly who they were yelled, “No,” again. At this point I started to get mad. If they wanted to challenge me, perfect, but when they refused to follow through it just upset me, leaving me embarrassed that I was mad and couldn’t make sense of the situation. I couldn’t focus. I couldn’t gain any momentum—the result of two kids undermining my program. I took it personally, which only made it worse. Afterwards Missy said she thought that I might just flip the crowd off and leave, but I so desperately wanted to connect with them that I couldn’t give up. The more I refused to give up the worse it became.

Of course, on the way home I reflected on the situation and understood what had happened. Those two kids took my voice. They wouldn’t let me be myself, and they wouldn’t let the others in the auditorium be themselves either. It was exactly what we wanted to combat with Nametags. Those two kids gave me the perfect opportunity and I totally whiffed. I couldn’t see it because I’d grown so mad.

Driving up the canyon I thought, yes, challenge authority. Don’t take something to be true just because I say so. Don’t take something to be true just because your teacher says it. You’re in charge of your learning. Mark Twain said, “Don’t let your education get in the way of your learning.” In my own school career I hadn’t challenged the teachers as much as I should have, but I consider my ski racing to be a continuation of my learning. There, feedback from coaches was a discussion. I wouldn’t do something just because they told me to. It had to make sense. I had to understand because then I could use it and then I could make it my own.

Challenge authority. Challenge the establishment. Be iconoclastic. Be like Picasso who said, “It took me four years to paint like Raphael, but a lifetime to learn to paint like a child.” Or the Dalai Lama, who  said, “Learn the rules so that you know how to break them.” Both of those thoughts assume learning the rules. Learn the rules and then break them. Don’t do what someone else has already done. Find a way to be unique. Break from tradition. Challenge authority. Challenge history. Make things better.

But have a reason. Have something to say. I was worked up. I thought, “Yeah, challenge authority, break with tradition, but have something to say because if you don’t have something to say you’re just being stupid.”

In my mind I’d answered the question. I’d found the solution, but there are so many different solutions. Nametags assumes you see another individual the way that they see themselves, which is far more difficult than it sounds. Just the other night I read Malcome Gladwell’s book Outliers. In it he said that people of different socio-economic backgrounds interact with authority figures differently. Middle class and above are encouraged at home to ask questions—to interact, to challenge. The lower classes usually fall silent.

While my interaction sounded like typical middle school kids trying to look cool in front of their friends, I didn’t take into account that they might not have been able to interact—to give me a reason why they said no, and that’s too bad. I hope that the next time I will avoid my anger and find a way to connect with the students. As much as this presentation challenged me to the core and frustrated me well beyond my limits, it was the best presentation yet. Adversity brings far greater teaching. And the next time I get unruly kids I will bring them on stage.

In keeping with the Nametags theme, the best question was

Are you happy with our new President?

I immediately thought of Stephen Colbert’s congratulations to our new president: “Congratulations to our first Hawaiian president.”

Talk about avoiding the obvious Nametag.