This is the latest edition of the Cornerstone I’ve ever written, but in the midst of trying to compose my column in the “11th Hour,” I’ve realized that it’s actually quite timely, as that’s exactly what I want to talk about as we end 2011…Because of all the events that occurred this past year—midst earthquakes and Irene and economic struggles—there is a story of “The Little Team That Could–At the Very Last Minute“…..I know it must seem strange in the depths of winter to be talking about baseball, but this past fall, the St. Louis Cardinals offered one of the strongest examples of fortitude and faith I’ve ever seen….My dad grew up in a tiny town in Missouri called Crystal City, and I’ve been a Cards fan by default since I was a little girl.  Whether we lived in Ohio or North Carolina, Indiana or Upstate New York, my dad would turn on the radio in our station wagon and the scratchy static of the announcer would reach us with the crack of a bat hitting a ball in some stadium far away.  My dad would tilt his head and ask:  “Do you know what that sound is?”  I’d dutifully answer, “Yes, Dad.”  And he’d chant, “That’s the sound of the St. Louis Cardinals—the greatest team in baseball.”I’d smile and agree—it was better than losing my ride!But last summer, my dad was down n’ out about our home team.  We met at Ocean Isle, NC, for a week at the beach, and each morning when I got up, Dad would make coffee while I checked scores on my Blackberry. I guess some people follow stocks—but my dad’s lifetime investment is this team, and I learned that we were “behind” by twelve games….a deadly deficit.  Any hope of making the playoffs was just a forgotten dream.  But this is right where I wanted our team.  All week I’d chant to my dad, “This is actually great!  We don’t want the Cards to peak in August—we want them to hit their zenith in October!”  He’d look at me like I was a girl who didn’t understand the intricacy of sports.And I don’t, really….but somehow, the St. Louis Cardinals did come back.  Not with a roar, exactly (although Albert Pujols is a force of nature—) but with a steady focus on each next swing…I won’t detail the string of stats along the way, but what I will say is that no one—not even my dedicated dad—quite believed the St. Louis Cardinals could win the World Series after such a losing season.  Yet each game was like an answered prayer as the Cardinals somehow squeaked by to stay standing in September.  And then they serendipitously ended up in the playoffs….and miraculously kept swinging into Game 6 of the World Series.If you follow baseball at all, you will know that something happened on October 28th, 2011, that will be remembered in sports forever.  At the bottom of the 9th with two outs, David Freese hit a triple to tie the game—!  But then we faced another inevitable ending:  in the 11th inning with two strikes, we were down again to our last out.  Despite all their effort, in one more instant, the Texas Rangers would celebrate victory.  But a baseball player from Missouri stood at bat in the dark night and believed that what he did next could still count.  Somehow, #23 erased every error from his mind and cleared his heart for the only thing he had left:  one final swing.

And guess what?  You know when people say, “You only need one.”  It could be a college acceptance.  It could be a job interview.  It could be a partner.  It could be a publisher.  It could be a chance.  Well, David Freese knew deep in his bones that he only really needed one.  And it was a homerun.

A swing that changed history.

The next day, Dave Sheinin wrote, “You cannot kill the St. Louis Cardinals. If they are down to their last game, they will win it. If they are down to their last out, they will redeem it. If they are down to their last strike, you’d better paint the corner and pray.”

Why is this story important for us today?  Because it just might be the 11th hour in your 11th inning.  You might be down to your last out.  Perhaps the “opposing team” is already chilling the champagne.  The reporters could be ready to put the story to print, with your losing score on the board.  Maybe even your biggest fan has left the stadium or turned off the TV.  It’s just you at bat.  With more one out.

But I challenge you to believe.  It only takes one player, one chance, one swing….to change everything.

Like life, the 2011World Series wasn’t about a perfect season.  The Cardinals lost—they lost a lot.  They faced errors and injuries.  They encountered critics and conflicts.  But in the end, what this team did together was to stay standing when all the chips were down and claim, “This one is mine.  I still see possibility.  I will face the darkness.  And I will swing—with everything.”

As we end a year of ups and downs, of sudden victories and deep disappointments—I challenge you to remember this story about baseball and belief….to renew your vision, to claim your potential, and to never ever give up.

Because You are The One:  the Only One like you ever created.  And I believe that you will win—if you just keep swinging.

“What do you DO?” It’s often the first question when we meet someone new.  For kids, this introduction sounds something along the lines of:  “So where do you go to school?” -or- “What kind of job are you hoping to get with that particular major?”  Sometimes adults follow this line of inquiry as we tango with the human tendency to “label and land” in the game of societal value.  In our culture, establishing benchmarks of success comes with a high price:  we secretly suffer from all kinds of afflictions–from eating disorders to insomnia–in the effort to navigate feelings of inadequacy about the titles (or lack of accolades) attached to our identity.  As a result, after handing back an essay or exam during my teaching days, I used to “outlaw” the question, “What grade did YOU get?!”  And I think my business theme of “You are so much more than a score–SOAR!” came from trying to reshape these excruciating academic interactions.There are some other voices joining this forum.  I was lucky enough to see the premiere of American Teacher this summer at NYU, and one of the creators of this documentary is Matt Damon, whose mother just happens to be an educator.  During a speech this July in Washington, D.C., the famous actor spoke against standardized exams, his voice ringing with the words, “None of the qualities who make me WHO I AM can be ‘tested.’“  Yet we try to quantify and qualify our very value down to one score on the SAT, or a class ranking, or the letters after our name, or the amount in our bank account….But our children see this paradox of rewarding achievement over honoring authenticity, and they understand that when we claim to want them to be “well adjusted” and “happy,” these well-meaning sentiments are just lip service.  Ours is a culture of constant competition, and that’s a problem.  We expect our kids to be healthy in a landscape that worships perfection–instead of honoring connection.  Perhaps even on this holiday of gratitude, we are mindlessly “modeling” our focus on evaluation with phrases like, “This is the best turkey ever!” or “The cranberry sauce was actually better last year….”  But this Thanksgiving, I would like to invite each of us to ‘stay in the day’ and express gratitude for what is working well right now, regardless of rough edges…. by refraining from the compulsion of comparison.  The tendency to rank acts like an automatic reflex in the minds of our young people and often prevents them from engaging in even simple assignments for fear of failure or just missing the mark.  Each day, I see how the need to achieve can dent even the most mundane tasks as I counsel students who are caught in the “paralysis of perfection.”Most of us are familiar now with Amy Chua, author of Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, who raised her daughters with rigid rules and extreme expectations.  Despite her family’s success, Chua reveals in an Oprah interview that she wishes “…that I’d paid more attention to the individual personalities of the girls…”  It sounds to me as if this mother might have missed out on sharing some poignant moments of joy with her daughters that can never be recaptured.So as we come to the end of 2011, I’m going to experiment a bit more with this simple column from my little corner of the world–and am starting now by asserting that our journey is richer and more rewarding when we make it messy.  We need to embrace mistakes as a pathway to discovery, not an anomaly on the road to recognition.  Like Steve Jobs, I want to challenge us to experiment with “the dots” and not worry so much about what they mean or where they may lead….to trust that there is art in ambiguity….And that it just might offer not only adventure and authenticity, but the grand opportunity to lead–outside the box, beyond the regular and the routine.

To quote an old cliche–how can our children discover their worth if they are always made to color inside the lines?  Today, I coached a senior who is an artist and an award-winning poet…yet terrified that her (quite solid) score on the SAT has both disappointed and upset her mother.   This young woman participates in prestigious art programs around NYC and has compiled a portfolio that has already earned the stamp of approval by an elite university.  Here’s what I told her:  “Your path is priceless.  Each day is a another page in your sketchbook, and you are going to draw a new future for your life, one picture at a time.  You will never be just a number–on this test or on any other–because your journey is a masterpiece of art that only you can create…from the canvas of your heart.”

Life is not linear and yet our lives can be marvelously messy….if we let them unfold with mystery and individuality. May you know this truth in your family and celebrate its possibility with gratitude this holiday season~!

I’m lucky to teach in a beautiful studio classroom that looks out on Brooklyn brownstones of Park Slope with a view of the misty city in the distance.  But lately our landscape in this beautiful borough I call home has taken a hit…Each week this past month, I have watched the economy erode Mom n’ Pop shops that have been part of my NYC clan…First it was the bodega just around the corner from my apartment–the landlord tripled the rent and, after 42 years, they closed their doors.  To someone reading this column, the end of a grocery store may not seem like a big deal, but to us in the neighborhood, it was like pulling up our anchor.  Every night when arriving home from work at 10pm, I would stop in–for some lettuce, or cat food, or half-n-half–but really what I was buying was human contact with the guy there who knew me, who came to learn about my family, who cared when my face seemed especially tired or stretched.  And yes, he would shave off a bit of the price each time and say, “See you soon!”  Most evenings he was the last person I talked to.  And it felt like a funeral when the aisles emptied…

Then later that week on my way to the train, I popped my head into my favorite curiosity shop–a cute little antique store just a block away–to visit with my friend, Frank.  He fixed my old lamps and chatted about my “fictional cottage in CT” and listened to my fantasy of visiting Tuscany.  Quirky and full of stories, Frank always had the time to take my dreams seriously.  But that balmy autumn afternoon, I suddenly turned around twice in mid-sentence to realize that the walls were empty of eclectic art and almost every stick of furniture had disappeared.  After collecting precious “companions” for our homes, Frank’s business of 32 years was now stacked in a few remaining boxes.  All of a sudden, I found myself returning to the street holding just a small slip of paper with a phone number for Long Island…

A week later, I trekked up to Montague to mail a package, trying to hum a tune, and stopped dead in my tracks:  across the street hovered a darkened awning of Amin, the Indian restaurant where I routinely met one of my favorite students from Poly Prep as an annual tradition spanning over six years.  Immediately reaching for my phone in pure panic, I called Gen to ask if she knew anything–and discovered that this cafe had been there since she was a baby.  But the FedEx guys confirmed the hard truth:  they couldn’t meet new lease requirements either.  It seemed impossible that we had just shared a meal together over easy laughter just a few weeks ago…

And during a recent lesson with a Corner Kid, I learned to my chagrin in casual conversation that somehow that my favorite coffee shop in Park Slope had closed.  It was like hearing that someone had collapsed from a heart-attack at age 35.  “WHAT?  NOT OZZIE’S?!!” I practically screamed.  This was the hub-bub of Berkeley Carroll students and teachers, moms in the neighborhood, and the likes of me–popping in each fall as the temperature dropped to ask, “Do you have soup today?”  I used to exchange fun quips with the manager about his 80′s tunes and splurge on their ruggelah when I needed a feeling of my mom’s pastries or a nudge from comfort food midst mid-winter’s gray days.  Ozzie’s had been my emotional oasis between a day in the city and a long night at the Corner.  Now where would I go to land and recover and renew?

Do we have any idea, any of us, just what we mean to each other?  How much we add to the daily fabric of our comings and goings, of our individual highs and lows?  I was in a Mastermind meeting last week and broke down about losing so many business buddies in my tribe–but the other women on the call were completely confused.   Perhaps they aren’t extroverts like me who get juiced by small exchanges of common connections.  Certainly they aren’t from New York.  But most importantly, they don’t know the small town heartbeat that has really built the Big Apple.  We claim the culture and the skyscrapers and the success of this city–but midst all the external glitter, it’s the little neighborhoods pulling together that has made this international meeting place a multi-faceted family.

As I lamented again to my client, “Jason,” about the loss of this sweet coffee shop, he looked over at me and said, “We’ll make it through–” and I stopped and smiled.  Here was a young man who had lost his aunt on 9/11 with 700 other souls at Cantor Fitzgerald–and I knew he was right, moved by this powerful example of resilience.  There in my classroom studio was the true mastermind:  my student modeled what I try to teach every day–to have a heart of empathy, to listen, to learn, and to support each other through the storms.  I was humbled and happy all at the same time.  With one sentence, Jason provided powerful healing and infinite wisdom:  my high school student offered a gift of emotional intelligence which no “wise woman” with all kinds of life experience could begin to grasp.

Yes, times are tough.  But our kids are strong–and they are learning the lessons of community and diversity and creativity….gems of growth that I believe will translate into a better tomorrow, somehow.  In the meantime, parents and friends, never doubt that–in this and every economy–it’s empathy that builds a beautiful brain, and this masterful tool will lead the way to a better day.

I want to tell you an unlikely story…about a young man from a little town called Derry, in Northern Ireland.  He loves singers like Frank Sinatra, Elvis, and Dean Martin–already you can probably tell that this is an ‘old soul’ who thinks outside the box… Damian McGinty was one of 40,000 candidates chosen for a program called “The Glee Project,” with a chance to guest star on the hit TV series, GLEE.  Out of thousands of talented performers, Damian was selected as one of twelve contestants to compete for a seat in Mr. Schuster’s choir of renegade musicians and high school misfits.Although each kid was special, everyone involved in “The Glee Project” fell in love with Damian–he was sweet, he was a team player, and he had a lovely sense of humor.  But no one really saw him as a contender.  In over a third of the show’s episodes, this underdog from Ireland had to perform a “last chance” song as one of “the bottom three contestants,” which always meant that one of them would be sent home.  By the seventh week, Damian was even put on the cutting block, as the judges decided that he was “NOT Called Back.”  However, his best friend, Cameron, decided to back out instead, handing Damian a second chance, and saving him for another week.But most individuals believed that it was “just a matter of time” for Damian–nobody really looked at him as “a big dog.”  He was the sweetheart who sang “Lean On Me” in his audition tape–a faithful friend and dependable confidant.  You didn’t find Damian discussing drama on the set–his focus was staying on stage….and believing in his dream.  So you know where I’m headed, right?  Don’t get me wrong:  this guy didn’t just “hang out” or “hang on,” he fought hard–but with compassion and kindness and a focus on the talent in his heart.  “I just want to sing and perform everyday, week in, week out–” was Damian’s theme song.Yet it was a joke on the set that Damian had weird eyebrows and abundant nose hair; a strange, sometimes unintelligible accent (complete with subtitles provided by the producers); and little to no coordination.  Many times the camera would catch Damian turning in the wrong direction during dance rehearsal, causing the choreographer, Zach Woodlee, to shake his head in utter frustration.  Nikki Anders, voice coach and mentor to the contestants, basically said these words to the struggling performer, “You can’t dance, you’re not really a great actor–and you don’thave the best voice in the group.”

But guess who was in the Final Four?
Darling Damian.

WHY?  HOW?!  Each week of the series was focused on a homework assignment with a theme–individuality, believability, theatricality, tenacity…We tend to assume that the individuals best suited for the stage are the ones with the most talent.  But Damian McGinty demonstrated something that shines beyond these “winning traits” with a quality called resiliency.  Resiliency is a component of Social and Emotional Intelligence that’s defined as “The ability to recover quickly from illness, change, or misfortune; buoyancy,” and it’s a core component of lifelong success.  The producer of “The Glee Project,” Ryan Murphy, even admitted to Damian that he had been the “whipping boy” in the show.  But Damian emulated this quality of resiliency by taking in criticism, growing from it, and bouncing back–getting better and brighter every single week.  Midst this journey, Damian sang the Sammy Davis classic, “Gotta Be Me.”  Despite all the pitfalls, Damian found a way to stay, and say:

“Whether I’m right or whether I’m wrong–
Whether I find a place in this world or never belong…
I gotta be me, I’ve gotta be me!”

Talk about resiliency.  After everyone else had been eliminated and the final two contestants stood side-by-side on the stage last Sunday evening, it was Samuel Larsen and Damian McGinty who were the last ones left…a superstar–and an underdog.  As everyone held their breath, the Winner of the Glee Project was announced:  Samuel.  Damian immediately applauded, obviously broken-hearted for himself, yet authentically happy for his friend, saying, “I’m delighted for Samuel, obviously–it’s hard getting so close…but he deserves it.”Talk about class.  But just when we thought that Damian was out of the game, the producer made a second announcement…stating that Damian was special–so special that he too had won a spotlight on the show:  seven episodes written just for this underdog with an accent from Ireland.  Perhaps the critics are right:  Damian can’t dance, he’s not a natural actor, and he doesn’t have the best voice of anyone else on the show.  But guess what?  That’s what made him just right.  It was his imperfections that actually caused everyone to fall in love with him–and it’s his resiliency that wouldn’t let his heart give up hope.  Needless to say, I can’t wait to celebrate Damian’s dream-come-true on the season premiere of GLEE this fall!Now with the start of school, it’s your show.  What’s your dream?  Need some strength to shine?  I’m here to help discover Your Inner Hero.  Let’s find your spotlight.  Join me at the Corner this year, and we’ll create a unique adventure for all Corner Contestants–I’m calling it “The WE Project.”  Those with huge imperfections and big hearts are especially invited.   Because I know that there is a special stage in life waiting. Just for You.

This past month, we reveled in the success of the US Women’s Soccer Team in Germany, and cheered for the USA each step of the way…. some of us stunned and many excited as the momentum led to the final moments of the championship match.  Last Sunday, I talked to an old college buddy about how thrilling it was just to be in the game, and she responded, “Yeah, but we have to WIN!”  Instead, each of us watched as Japan kicked that final goal into the net and claimed the World Soccer Cup.  I have to admit that–despite my pride in Team USA–it was heartening to see the country so ravaged by a recent tsunami come together and heal their nation with this hard-won victory. 

While it’s never easy to “lose,” acknowledging someone else’s excellence is a sign of emotional intelligence–and an important life skill.  While teaching a film analysis class this summer, we went to the QUAD Theater in the Village to see a little picture called WIN-WIN, which I highly recommend.  Afterwards, I taught the class how to analyze a movie through deconstructing its title.   As we explored the theme/s of winning, I remembered a little speech from the movie White Men Can’t Jump that went something like this:  “Sometimes when you win, you really lose. And sometimes when you lose, you really win. And sometimes when you win or lose, you actually tie and sometimes when you tie, you actually win or lose. Winning or losing is all one organic globule, from which one extracts what one needs.”

My meaning?  It’s yours to make….both with the women’s soccer game and your own battles in life.  Because–as expressed in the book I’m reading this summer called Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, “The real cycle you’re working on is a cycle called yourself,” and the cycle of that game never ends.  We’re constantly in a state of repair on the journey–this time, Japan may have “won,” but the game starts again when we hit the Olypmics.   Perhaps our American team will be even more hungry then for a win–and maybe the ‘prize’ of a gold medal will mean even more than the World Cup trophy.  Who knows?

One thing for sure is–you really can’t win them all.  But one thing I do believe is that it’s not all about the final score.  Both soccer teams brought their countries together by renewing our morale and boosting our pride–even busy celebrities like Tom Hanks found time to tweet admiration for our athletes….And for one Sunday afternoon, we stopped the usual routine, raising our vision to a common goal.  Abby Wambach reflected on that fact after beating France, saying, “It’s not about one save or one goal–it’s about how you can do it all Together.”  Study the success of any team and that’s what you’ll find:  a devotion to getting the job done (not necessarily won–) through facing the odds as a unified force.

Another game came to an end this summer with the finale of my beloved series, Friday Night Lights.  And yes, the down-n’-out Texas teams of Coach Eric Taylor ultimately did a lot of winning along the way.  But when the players of his football team talked about their coach, they didn’t discuss the final score on the field when they walked away–what his players claimed were the lessons they gained about a bigger game.  “You changed my life, Coach” were the words of underdog quarterback Vince Howard, who knew he’d be dead or in jail without the strength and belief of his mentor.

These are the points that really matter on the scoreboard of life.  The banners fray, the trophies tarnish, the state championship ring is lost….But the value of working together, rising above criticism, facing our demons both on and off the field–these are the goals of winning in the daily grind of life–where the strongest muscles we build are discovered in our commitment to bringing out the best in each other.

“Clear eyes, full hearts–can’t lose.”
Now that’s a WIN-WIN.