Don't Believe Your Own Press...Paradigm's Story

During my career in non profit and about a decade ago, I worked at one of the premier substance abuse treatment companies in the country. It is safe to say, that the company I worked for "owned" the industry in Florida. Working in that environment made it easy to forget how hard we had to work to keep the doors open and to keep our name in the public eye. Every three months, the CEO would gather all of the managers together for a leadership meeting and she always started with this phrase, "Don't believe your own press, for if you do, you will surely fall."  Companies all over the world use that phrase as a reminder that at any time, you can fail by the simple belief that you are unbeatable. In the real world, you often hear of athletes, actors, artists, entrepreneur's and businessmen fall, because somewhere along the line they believed their own press and didn't pay attention to the climate around them. Color guards are no different.

How many guards have we all seen come and go and somewhere in the process of many of those programs, there is probably a story where the staff didn't pay as close attention to the money, the membership, climate, or process as closely as they should have. Paradigm is no different and our story is one of caution and the climb back. It's one every person can probably relate to or at the very least learn from.

In 2005, Paradigm reached the height of competition as a program by placing 7th in World Class at the WGI World Championships by displaying one of the hardest and to that point one of the most standard setting flag features ever. By completing the entire phrase with our feet and in the horizontal position, it was by standards of the time a true test of the world class sheet. In the midst of the season and looking back, it was very clear that the staff hung our hat on that moment and even the program. For us, it was truly a Cinderella season, but in the midst of it all we started to believe our own press and lost who we were as a program. We believed that we had arrived and with that feeling comes arrogance. Below are just some of the mistakes we made.

• We didn't take the pulse of the emotions and sensitivities of the performers in our quest to push the envelope
• We believed that because we were a two time World finalist, kids from around Florida would just flock to us
• We didn't assess if the program was moving too fast for the financial structure
• We didn't assess the veteran status of the performers and who would come back and who wouldn't simply based on time in the program and time to move on
• We didn't assess the stress level of the staff
• We didn't assess our competitors competitive growth and proximity to us
• We didn't assess the national climate

These are just a few things we didn't assess. How do you build upon one of the best moments you've ever had? We didn't ask that question. If I remember correctly, we didn't ask a lot of questions. We moved into the next season with a simple assumption that everything would just work. We believed our own press and it backfired on us. It took us two more seasons to realize that success is fleeting and if you don't continue to spend the majority of your time focusing on the administrative side you will eventually fall. By 2007, the loss of a significant amount of the membership, and low turn out at auditions resulted in the decision that 2007, would be our last season as a program. 

The staff scattered and it took us five years to realize that we needed to be back together, but in 2012, we still didn't do it right. Once again, we believed in our own press, no matter how old that press was. In today's world of social media, texting, and the internet, it's important to realize that five years ago is a lifetime and five minutes ago is all that really matters. 

That was lesson number one.

Social Media has changed the way we recruit, communicate, and even train color guards. It is probably without a doubt the most significant shift in the way the color guard world works. Every thing you say and do is there for the world to see.

Lesson number two

The second mistake we made was that we wanted to rebrand ourselves, but in the branding process we threw out what worked and kept what didn't. We completely did it backwards. The one thing that has always worked for Paradigm, no matter whether or not we have had a good or bad season is that the staff is truly one. We act as one and function as one. We are never off message as an organization. The trust is strong. We thought that by shifting the staff around that we could rebrand, but still be Paradigm. Wrong. When we did that we lost the soul of the program.

Keep what works and know what doesn't work. Take ego out of the equation.

Lesson number three

After a disastrous 2012 season, we attempted 2013 and realized that there was no way we could come back out without a plan. After a disappointing audition and difficulty securing the right staff, we made the decision for the second time in our history to fold the program, but this time, would only be temporary. We would spend the 2013 season planning. In December of 2012, what would have been a design camp, we met as a staff and brought in a few outside opinions and spent two days hammering out a strategic plan that would expire in April 2016. At the end of 2016, our goal was to walk on the floor in A finals. I can only speak for myself, but at times my ego got in the way as how do you go from World Finals and a standard setting, standing ovation moment, to making a three year plan to make finals in Independent A class? I struggled internally with that.

Let you ego go if you want to save the program. It's about the program...not about you.

Lesson number four

You have to figure out how to re-brand and rebuild without living in the past, but keeping the spirit of the tradition alive. 

In the two days of strategic planning, there was much debating, arguing, and at times some storming out of the room. We had to agree to drop blame and leave the past behind. This was hard, because it was the time that we had to agree that yes we screwed up and yes we should have paid more attention to the dynamics of the program, but there was no one person that could be pointed to that owned that blame. This was when we discovered that we truly were friends, that everyone owned a stake in the program and doing that allowed us to put Paradigm first.

Lesson number five

When you strategic plan, it's crucial that all voices are heard. Opinions matter and dreaming big is a necessary step. Strategic planning is a concept of starting big and ending with realistic short term and long term goals. It takes commitment by all involved. We were honest with each other and all agreed to specific tasks and were held accountable for those tasks. 

Listen to each other no matter how crazy the idea's are and brainstorm as a group.

Lesson number six

When we started the planning session everyone was given an assignment. "Write down the companies you feel have the qualities you want to see in a color guard." There was no wrong answer. Starbucks, Target, Fed Ex, the Rays Foundation were all mentioned. Comments such as, "great customer service" and "efficient" were just a couple of reasons those companies were mentioned. The question was also asked in reverse. "Who do you not want to mirror?" We discussed other guards and drum corps that we respected and didn't respect as organizations. We made a list of qualities that we wanted and did not want as an organization.

Family, financially viable, unique, community, open door policy, and advocates were words frequently used.

Don't reinvent the wheel. Learn from others and take the most necessary qualities you want to see in your organization.

Lesson number seven

Setting goals was the crucial step. Once we decided who we wanted to be, we needed to decide what type of competitive organization we wanted to be. We knew a couple of things. We would have to be patient. There was no rushing to get back to World and we were willing to take as long as needed to get the right kids, staff, and financial backing into place. Nothing was going to replace the foundation that the kids come first and our goal has always been to be a place where any performer can feel at home. Patience allowed us to look at the financial picture with open eyes and invited new ideas from other creative and business outlets. 

Be patient and build your foundation. The finances, staff, and performers need to grow as one entity and not separate aspects of the program.

Lesson number eight

In the process of strategic planning we did what is called asset mapping. We made a list of every color guard within driving distance. We looked at their staff's. We looked at where the kids were gravitating to and why. This was a long process, but helped us identify where we should be located and how we should recruit. It taught us to not waste time recruiting from certain area's and helped us reach out the the right staff members. It helped us find our niche' area. This then helped us look for rehearsal facilities and find a community to "own." One of the most crucial pieces of Paradigm is that we believe that a color guard, band, or drum corps should find a community to not just exist in, but to be a part of. Community is what started this entire activity to begin with and we made a goal as a group that we would return our program to the roots of the activity.

Look at your community. Do they even want you there? How can you work with the community to gain their support? 

Lesson number nine

Mentor and succession plan. This was the next step. There was no way that Paradigm would exist with the current staff structure. We realized that it was time for the older staff to serve as mentor and consultant and the younger staff needed the opportunity to step up to design, tech, and administrate. So that's what we did. We created a succession plan. The goal was to turn the program over to the right young people and make it theirs. We vetted staff carefully for not just skill, but to make sure their philosophy fit our philosophy. Most of the current staff have performed in the program before, but not all. Outside experiences are crucial. Moving staff positions around was also crucial to this plan. We had to find where the best fit was for all involved.

Once you reach the top, it's important to send the elevator back down. Mentor those invested in your program and give them the chance to be successful under their name...not yours.

Lesson number ten....MONEY

Money was not going to be left to chance. In no way, under any circumstances were we going to function in the red. We would fold, before go broke. We also knew we would not exploit the performers for dues. Keeping the dues manageable, while staying competitive was our biggest goal. We knew that making money outside traditional fundraising means was a necessary component to keeping Paradigm afloat and making money just to survive was not an option. So we laid out every idea we could think of to raise our public profile, write grants, and raise money in the non traditional sense. We worked it like a business first and color guard second. Let me repeat that.

We function as a business first and color guard second. It's the only way to survive in the long term and everyone on staff is required to understand that.

In the end, our taking the 2013 season off  to assess the climate and write a strategic plan, was the best thing we ever did. That one weekend in December 2012, set us up for walking on the finals floor in Dayton in 2016. The current strategic plan has expired and it's time for another one. We will follow the same structure and invite outside voices to the table. All opinions will matter. It was a long road back to the finals floor, but the biggest lesson we learned is that we will never again...believe our own press. We will assess and assess and assess. We as staff members ask the kids to always look at their rehearsals and shows to assess their performance and our philosophy is that we as the adults should also as well. See you on the floor in 2017. Who knows where the next strategic plan will take us??

What I Have Learned About the A Class Sheet by Spending Three Years Teaching Independent A Class

I have no clue. Looking for answers along with the rest of the A class community, most judges, administrators, and performers. If you have any, please contact me at Shelbaparadigm@gmail.com

The Greatest Love

Some things change, they never stay the same. Life goes on and as the old adage states and many who come of age headed to the downward slope of their lives; you can never go home again.

Dayton not the city, but what we call WGI is the epitome of the cliché’ of just about every life quote, motivational poster, and famous poet that ever spoke of the struggle of life. The city of Dayton has gone through many transformations and as much as things change, some things have stayed the same. For instance, the roads in Dayton have been under construction for well…ever. What are they doing? The Hara Arena for example, where many of us practice and many of us premiered our first shows back in the 90’s is still cold as ice as it’s well…an ice rink. Edwin C. Moses Blvd is still there and that exit is a big deal for those of us driving down from the airport on our first day in Dayton. For those coming from the south, it’s the witnessing of the Cincinnati skyline for the first time coming over the bridge. The planes to Dayton are filled with kids in guard jackets. That will never change. There is Needmore Road, South Patterson Blvd. and the Denny’s. The Denny’s? Yes the Denny’s. It’s the hell hole food many of us have eaten after hungover from Saturday night. I was shocked to see that they closed it. Now it’s just a memory of once was. That piece of crap, bad service Denny’s was one of our hangouts. The Marriot. Next year at this time it will look completely different. Al is still there. Al. He is the bartender that has worked headquarters for a decade. He is just as much a part of the WGI experience as the guards themselves. Every year Al tells me that I’ve added wrinkles around my eyes or I look haggard. I love Al. He tells it like it is. He makes me laugh and knows my drink without pause. He’s the consummate bartender.

It always rains in Dayton. Always. It always seems to rain in Dayton at the most inconvenient time for the guards. This year is snowed. We’ve seen snow, but this was new. We were covered in it. I slid on ice driving to A finals at the Nutter Center. I was like, “Damn…I certainly want to live to see finals.”

Things change and they can never stay the same. There’s no use in holding on. Life is like that. Those of us who are old are desperate for the past and those who are young don’t even grasp it. They just want to move forward.

I guess this is what brings me to the point of this post. It’s important that life moves forward and we as an activity keep evolving and growing and changing, but this year there was something missing and many of us old timers’ seemed to feel it. We couldn’t put our finger on it, but throughout many conversations in many different arenas, many different people and many different cocktails; I’m going to try to pinpoint it.

We feel…we the people…we some of the people maybe…feel that tradition has gotten lost in the income generating empire WGI has become. No one and I mean no one wants to go back to a time when only 100 guards came to Dayton. We love seeing a sold out crowd on Saturday night, but we want some of the aspects to never get lost in the rush for money, marketing, and advertising.

I’ll start with this. Lynn Lindstrom. The First Lady of WGI. Her picture should have been hanging in every arena, in every city. Her tribute should have reached to Cincinnati to Millett Hall and the Marriot. Wouldn’t it be nice to see tributes to guards of the past in the form of pictures or old clips, because we are all here today, because Anthron did something really weird back in the 80’s or Alliance came out of the tunnel with tents and a gypsy show. We are here, because many of us were forced to age out and teach at the age of 22. We are here today, because Ernie announced the guards and his voice was truly something special for those of us striving to reach finals. We are here today, because people sat in board rooms, bars, and circuit shows trying to find new ways to give the best experience to kids. There is no single person that owns the activity. We all do. We feel that…no not we…I’ll just say I, because I don’t believe in speaking for others. I feel, that we are losing our traditions and that they are being swept to the side like some glitter left over after a New Year’s Eve party in the race for whatever gains income.  

I felt awful for the A class guards. They pay their dues, work just as hard and populate the entire activity at the local and national level, yet this year it just wasn’t the same. Part of the tradition is the tunnel. Kids for years have worked just for the privilege of walking down that tunnel. Some years you make it and some years you don’t, but trying to get your props down the tunnel without losing control of them is something everyone should experience at least once. That little side room is another tradition. What it looks like though, is that the World Class now owns the arena and just happens to give it up on Sunday morning, because they are tired. It wasn’t lost on many of us that Independent World went on at night in the arena every day of competition. It wasn’t lost on most of us when the predictability of few people showing up for A finals. That was a shock…not. Did the kids have a good time? Of course they did. However, Friday night use to be theirs. We use to even give them Triple Finals on Saturday and the World class went on Sunday. Now both Open and A go on back to back Saturday morning. That makes me sad. I overheard a WGI staff member at Nutter complaining that they weren’t working the arena. See, even the contest staff would rather be at the arena.  That actually made me cry, because it sounded as if we were second class and for many of us it’s the contest staff’s faces from our local circuits that makes us feel comfortable at WGI. That’s a me thing I guess. There is nothing more special than seeing that kid who walks on the floor at A finals for their very first WGI. Nothing! I also must say that there isn’t anything more special than watching a young instructor get to experience it as well. I wonder though, if we are losing it all in the quest for more.

Things change I guess. Being in Dayton for A and Open is hard. It’s hard to plan for and it’s a constant level of stress involving much travel, to multiple cities, at absurd wake up calls. We do it though, because we want our kids to experience Dayton. We…no I…understand that the activity has grown and we most likely have grown out of Dayton, but I know it has to grow. I know it can’t be like it used to be. I mean this year there were police monitoring the hallways at the arena. Not security. Police. One of them yelled at a kid in the hallway for just standing….and he yelled. It’s just not the same when we need police for crowd control. I don’t think I liked that, even if the insurance company did require it.

I don’t profess to this day understand why the activity has become a classical music, piano concerto, wine and cheese toss fest. It has though. I made a joke during finals and said, “Oh my God could someone come out and just do Beyonce’?” When I got in the car to come to the airport on Sunday, Beyonce’ was on the radio. I laughed. So o.k. Piano concerto’s it is. When they changed the age out to no age out many years ago, many of us complained. Many complain to this day, but there is no denying the athleticism, talent, and skill that comes from 30 year old adults who have honed their skills over a lifetime. I still like watching the kids, though. The real kids. It makes me happy. It’s my thing, I guess.

I remember when the judges could hang out at headquarters and weren’t sequestered. I get it. It’s the world championships. I can still miss it, though. Those judges are our friends, colleagues, and sometimes family. We never get to see them anymore and many of them are even afraid to speak to us. I feel that we’ve created a divide and somewhere along the line, WGI has lost the voice of the people, the ones who don’t sit on the board made up of World Class guards and those of us that don’t earn shares at the end of the season after all the dollars are counted. There is an overwhelming feeling of us vs. them…people are just afraid to speak it out loud. Someone used the phrase this weekend that the 1% now truly owns the activity as we watch percussion commercials between shows. We have to make money to grow. We all understand that. It’s how we are sustained. However, I do have to ask this. Doesn’t  A Class and Open Class sustain us at some level? I mean there’s only about 50 or so World guards. Let’s be honest here. I’m no mathematician, but somehow the math doesn’t work. I guess the advertising dollars are so great it really doesn’t matter. I don’t know. I do know regardless of the math, that the A class pays into the system at a much higher rate both locally and nationally. There is just simply more of them. Everyone pays their entry fee’s. There were 200 A Cl;ass Guards at WGI this year out of a total of 350 or so guards. ( I think I counted 346) So what is that…58% of the entire world championships? O,pen Class comprises 28%, so total the Open and A teams and you get roughly 86% of the World Championships and the argument is that it’s the World Class that sells out the arena. No one debates that, but it doesn’t change the percentages, because if even half of THAT 86%, chose not to attend, then the tide would most certainly turn.

When WGI announced the movement of A class to the Nutter Center on Saturday morning many people complained. I advocate for a living and in advocacy 101, you always learn to look at who is speaking and what interests they hold. You find the conflicts of interests and in that particular case, there were many. How many guards should go into finals? I don’t know. I guess 25 and 20 is a good number. It makes sense. It does. How do you make it happen with 350 guards? I have no idea. I know that using five facilities must be a logistical and expensive nightmare. I do think though, it was a rushed decision that didn’t really look at the impact it had on the crowds and the general feeling of “Well, that sucks. We no longer as an activity have an option to see all the finals performances if we so choose.” We all suck it up though, and move on. A decade from now no one will remember that A Class kids ever marched in the arena and we were able to choose to see all of the finals shows.

So here we are. Things have changed again. Just like television and technology. We grow and losteTriple Finals. We grow and lose the ageout tradition of leaving gloves on the floor. We grow and we lose the ability to make and watch video’s for years to come. We grow and many kids lose the arena. We may or may not get to see both finals ever again and that makes me sad, because many of us over the years have really tried to at least catch some of each of finals. That my friend is not a direction I’m willing to sit back and let happen.  In my vested interested in A class, it’s my job to advocate for a better system. I heard a lot of bitching this weekend. A lot! I heard a quote at the Nutter Center that just made me sad.

 “Well aren’t we the welfare children of WGI. Where is our block of cheese?”

Wow. Just wow. The benefit I have of being just a person in the stands and not sequestered or have special rooms at headquarters or attend private board meetings and have the cell number of important people, is that I get to listen and watch. I have the privilege as a writer of having people randomly talking to me. I watch and there is a feeling of us vs. them.  I don't get to sit like a queen on top of the arena watching finals. It is undeniable and as in all real change, at some point we will lose who we are and become who we will be. Let’s be careful though, because we don’t want to go down the path of major nonprofits, where we find out that the mission got lost in the quest for money…Red Cross, Salvation Army, Susan G. Coman, Untied Way. Their pocketbooks were hit hard from donations when the stories broke. 

And no. It wasn’t the same being at Nutter over the arena. It just wasn’t. They tried to sell that to us, but I know cow patties when I step in them. You know what would be amazing? Put World Class in the intimate environment of Nutter for Semi’s and I still bet the show would be packed as Semi’s would allow people to see the choreography up close and Saturday we could absorb the ambiance of the arena and A Class could have Friday night back. A and Open could even take turns on Friday nights. Just a thought. World could go back to Sunday's. The options are limitless if we try hard enough. If nothing else, for the love of God, let's figure out a way to get each finals a suitable audience for a world finalist.

My hope, because I always end with a hope. My hope is that those that feel disenfranchised will speak up. You know the best way to do it? With your dollars. Change occurs when you hit the pocketbooks of people in charge. It’s how we achieved social change in the civil rights movement and the gay rights movement. If you want change, you have to stop bitching and do something about it. You can’t let fear of debate or apathy stop you. Someone asked me this weekend if I was afraid my guard would be impacted by speaking out? I was like…WHAT! No of course not. One…I trust the judges. Two…if that ever happens I’m done. This is why I write. I want to keep tradition alive, dialog moving, and a future that involves all the voices.

I love winter guard. I love the people. I love my friends. I love my lifelong friends. I love headquarters. I love the arena. I love the shows. I love to know that I was around when there were Sunday shows and Triple finals. I love having the history. I love Al at the bar. I love Needmore Road that we make fun of every year. I love the tailgating at World Finals. I love the hugs in the halls. I love the standing ovations (all be it they are becoming less and less). I love the parties. I love the debates on the direction of World Class. I love that I hate that I’m tired for a week after WGI. I love the memories that carry me in the hard days of real life.  I love seeing my friend’s judge, work the shows, and walk on the floor with their guards. I love that there is such a bond between all of us, even when we are sometimes irritated and mad at each other. Mostly though, I love the traditions. Such as the oranges. You must eat a Dayton orange.

When I marched Pride we had a tradition of singing a song. “The Greatest Love of All.” There’s a line in it we must never forget.

“I believe the children are the future teach them well and let them lead the way.”

In the end, this picture below will get lost in a sea of Dayton's and 2016 will be a memory we will barely recall. The big scandal of the A Class NutterGate will be forgotten. All that will be left is a piece of confetti some young A Class performer picked up off the ground and tucked away in their memory box. We have to though, keep striving to make it better and reaching for different avenues of performance. We can't rush big decisions and have keep the mission always in our minds. We must listen to our instincts, lose our ego's, and include all the voices. It's not just about our future, but it's also about our traditions and our past, because without the past, we will lose the spirit. This is for all of us those that own a piece of confetti called the sport of the arts.

A Difference A Year Makes/ Championships to Championships

When I wrote my final blog post at the end of last season, the 2015 season,  I had no idea how much of a difference the following year would bring me. I think for all of us who are passionately invested in the pageantry arts, we see it as a commitment for life. Whether we performed for only one season, taught just a couple of years, judged once or twice, or for many of us...put both feet in the deep end and jumped face first with a splash of water that rises so high it touches anyone within distance; the reality is that somewhere deep in our soul, we know we are committed for life. 

When I first joined winter guard, it's safe to say I did it under duress. I was a gymnast. Not just some fly by night gymnast either. I was good and national bound. Circumstances arose and my 10 year career as a gymnast ended. At the time I was in the band and had been playing flute for 8 years. To be honest...I thought the guard was a bunch of untalented hacks. I mean...what seriously was this flag thing anyway? Without the musicians, they wouldn't exist. This was the mid 80's and I had no idea winter guard was even a thing. Well one day, I found myself...somehow...marching in the McGavock winter guard. I was a dandelion. Seriously...I was a freaking dandelion. Of course then the rain came and I was an umbrella. It's a long story. Anyway, I personally thought it was kind of silly. All of a sudden though, we went to our first regional and it was the 1987 Pensacola WGI Regional. If you were around back then, you know that the Pensacola Regional might as well have been nationals. State Street, Alliance, Nouveau, Odyssey. Millers Blackhawks. I mean Wow. Seriously wow! What a first regional to attend as a newbie. I was hooked. All it took was one toss by the State Street rifle line to convince me that I didn't know how, but this activity would be a part of me for life and it is....a part of me...for life. It might be the biggest part of me outside of my child. 

I judged two circuit championships this year and I was not just honored, but humbled to even be considered a part of those panels. Yesterday, I attended my third championships to see my own team perform. I almost missed it as my flight from one championships was delayed by three hours. I cried. I sat in the airport up against a wall at the terminal gate in tears as the time on the take off time kept being moved further and further back. It's only in this activity that you would fly to one circuit on Friday night to judge 60 plus guards on Saturday, just to get up at 5:00 a.m. to fly to another circuit the next morning. It's insane. It is totally and undoubtedly insane to do something like this. We do it though. All of us. We spend inordinate amounts of time to give the best experience to the performers as we can. Instructors. judges, board members, volunteers, parents, and contest staff. I mean, there are people behind the scenes that spend hours just to make sure the kids are given the best experience possible. Then there are the instructors. They work for free. They go broke. They cry and laugh with each other, just to experience that final moment at championships. It's my favorite part of the season. Retreat. It's the only time we get to see all the kids in one place, standing together as one. It's special and every season in some circuit somewhere I make sure to watch retreat at championships. I love to see the kids faces as their units are called. I love the medal ceremonies. I love the local circuit championships so much more than the one at nationals, because every kid no matter who they are or what class they are in, is given the chance to stand on the floor and hear their name called. It's truly a special moment. 

This year though, from Championships in 2015 to Championships in 2016, was the difference of night and day. For many of us, Championships is like New Years Eve. When the day is over a year has ended. It's like a countdown to letting go of the old and welcoming the new. In this year, from championships to championships, I lost my dad. I realized that my job and career of 23 years no longer fits me. I tried to move and have basically done just about everything to uproot my life you can possibly imagine. The life I was living no longer fit me. What I found out though, that through it all, I had my color guard community. Some of my closest friends are in this community and they were there all along to support me in my struggles. They have always been there. I realized this year that life changes and sometimes faster than you want. The Universe doesn't wait for you to make decisions. It has a plan for you, that you don't even have an awareness of. I realized that I'm stronger than I ever imagined, but also weaker than I allow myself to be. Once this year, I was judging a guard and they did a show about death. I realized that I couldn't finish the commentary as memories of my dad popped in my head. The person judging next to me just said, "It's o.k." I pulled myself together and the next guard came on and I did what I had to do. Stronger than I thought I was, but human at the same time. 

Change takes place and for all of us and we face it the best we can. The activity teaches us to stand up tall and recover like a pro. It teaches us to keep going and that others are counting on you. I have looked forward to one true thing this year. It was the one thing I needed to do the most for months. I wanted to walk on the floor with Paradigm at the FFCC Championships. I've been with Paradigm since 2003. I needed to walk on the floor with them in the circuit I've spent 22 years of my guard career. I needed to see the faces of the kids and witness the show good or bad, with the staff I had been with for over a decade. I needed that continuity. I needed that support from a circuit I've been involved with since 1994. I needed to see my friends. When the word in the airport came down that the flight was delayed I wasn't worried, but one hour delay, became a two hour delay, and then a three hour delay. I was pretty convinced I wouldn't make it. Tears came down and I couldn't get them to stop. I couldn't believe that all the hard work all season would come down to me sitting inside an airport. In the end, with help from who else...a Paradigm staff member...made sure that once that plane landed, I would make it to championships even if we had to fly down the interstate. I made it with 15 minutes to spare. I saw the last 2 minutes of warm up and was with them in holding. We walked up the stands together and watched the show as a full staff. It was truly a special moment. For me, it was the only moment. Only the present mattered.

When I was judging championships in AIA on Saturday, I made sure to find one performer in every guard to make eye contact with as if to say, "You're doing great." I looked in the faces of the staff as they walked past me to go up top and see their guards. Most of them young. My hope for them is that they keep their passion alive like I have and my hope for them is that one day when they are judging, they remember that passion and what it was like to be fresh faced and wide eyed. My hope is that they never forget the kids and they find a group of people to call friend and to call family. 

We must never forget that our role in the activity is to foster and grow the kids into the adults that we hope will be the next tech, designer, administrator or judge. From Championships to Championships I've learned that giving back to the activity is crucial, because it saved me this year and this isn't the first time. I guess that's why I've pushed so hard for the dialog on training. I want those kids to have a great experience and to feel good about who they are and who they are standing on the floor with.

If I could give one piece of advice to my colleagues out there who are as old as me and logged thousands of hours in gyms and football fields, don't get bitter and don't forget how you started. Look the kids in the eyes. Watch retreat at championships. It's truly special. It will always bring you back to your passion and what remains the one constant in a world filled with change. It has been my privilege  to write this blog that so many of you read and I thank you for you kind words and comments. Enjoy your off season and I'll see you next year on the floor.  

Safety, Training, and Kum Ba Yah

This winter guard season is about to come to an end. Championships is the culmination of a season of sweat and tears...passion and devotion. As any other season, I come away with an array of emotions, thoughts, and ideas. I've reached a point in my guard career where I have no more to gain and really don't have any more to lose. I'm at peace with who I am as an instructor and some time ago, lost my ego in exchange for the betterment of the kids and the activity as a whole. Doing that, has allowed me to see things differently. I talk to people differently. I listen differently. I judge differently. I instruct differently. Do I follow criteria and rules? Of course I do. Do I want my teams to win? Of course I do. Somewhere though, I lost the ego. I saw that a person could only walk on the floor at World finals so many times or post on Facebook about the great show I'm judging so many times, before I had to stop and look around and say, "There has to be more than this."

The path I chose is one of advocacy. Kevin Spacey once said that if you have made it, then it is your job to send the elevator back down so others have the same opportunities. When I dropped my ego, I started looking around at how those of us that did make it, had it a little easier. We had less guards to compete against, classes that had a little more defined identities, and for the most part, we were all competing against ourselves who were of similar age and creating an activity that we wanted to see.

Things are different now. We...those of us who are older...were the creator of the criteria and the creator of the rules, We created rules to fit our needs. We are now judging. We are still instructing. We are making money through design and production value at the cost of the younger instructors, who don't have the experience and who don't have the perspective. Many of them are lost. It is time to send the elevator back down and give a helping hand.

"But Shelba...no one wants what we have to offer."

"Shelba...we've tried. No one comes to OUR trainings."

"But Shelba...they don't care. I mean...we tell them they need training."

Yeah, yeah, yeah.. You know what I have to say to that? BULLSHIT! We haven't tried hard enough. You know why? Because, often times...many times in fact, young people or people who lack perspective that comes with age and experience, don't realize what they don't know. They don't always grasp the danger inherent in the activity or grasp that they even need help. Many don't understand recaps and many feel as if the criteria reads like the instructions of an Ikea purchase. When we say "training" many don't even know what that word means. Is it basics? Is it cleaning? How do we train the body? When is o.k. to blend body and equipment in one motion? Here are a couple of numbers for you.

In Dayton this year, there are 120 colorguards registered for the Scholastic A class. Dayton as we all know, is pretty much for the best of the best. In a quick survey I did of 5 circuits...there was a total of 247 guards registered at their championships who will fall onto the Regional A sheet. That's just 5 circuits. This means that there are thousands of kids around the country who fall on the regional sheet and hundreds of instructors teaching those units. There are things about these units we don't know. We don't know the experience level of the instructors. We don't know if they have had any training by their local school or band in basic skills of coaching and safety. We don't know what their educational levels are and we don't know the situation of their financial status, rehearsal space, staffing capabilities, and rehearsal time. Not knowing this information, but knowing that there are thousands of kids who are in these gyms with these instructors, creates potential problems.

We as an activity are struggling to define what introductory, basic, and intermediate looks like in all four captions. I've written about it and posted about it on Facebook numerous times, but I think it's more than that. It's more than creating a policy on promotion during the season or telling judges that "training" must take precedent over design. That statement though, that I hear in every circuit, every place I judge is subjective based on any one person's personal experiences. We struggle with these concepts, because we aren't reaching across the aisle to truly discuss them. We find excuses to not address it. We fear change. We fear working together. We let the past get in our way. We create arbitrary borders that keep dialog from occurring. Mostly though, we aren't bringing the true stakeholders to the table...the instructors...the young ones...the ones who are lost, confused, and scratching their heads in understanding how to take a young guard from band camp in July to Championships in April, while they have a minimal budget, minimal staff help, and minimal rehearsal time.

On any given Saturday in October or February, you will find a marching band competition or winter guard show where thousands of kids will present their productions. At those shows are judges. Many...if not most of those shows have judges who are flown in from outside the region. This is not a bad thing. It's gives the units perspective. There is one drawback, though. How do I as a judge who is getting a paycheck, stay invested in a region of the country I don't even live in? What incentive do I have to keep the dialog going after the guard leaves the floor and after their three minutes are up? On any given Friday in October or February, you will see judges posting on Facebook about the flights they are on and the show they are headed to. On any given Sunday in October or February, you will see a multitude of "thank you's" as judges depart home. It's all on the up and up. I believe that everyone is doing their part for the kids. However, when I get on that plane on Sunday morning, I worry. I worry that there is a guard out there...one of those 247, that is doing something absurd. I told them to take it out. I let my score reflect it, but I'm not sure they understood and it bothers me. I worry about safety. I worry that there are judges who don't truly understand training in it's most purest form and are asking those in regional A to do more when if fact, they should be encouraged to do and spend less. In fact...I've heard it happen and in every circuit I've judged in. I'm concerned that there are concussions we don't know about, broken wrists, broken ankles, shin splints, and dislocated knees that are happening, because we aren't really talking about what matters...the safety of the kids and how we need to create a system of education and judging that helps those hundreds of young instructors keep those thousands of kids safe.

I make it very clear when I bring these topics up that I don't profess to know the best course of action. I also realize that any change would be like unraveling a small necklace wrapped into a thousand knots. I know this, though. Change takes time, but change doesn't happen until the process is started. I realize that many fear change. I know that you have to have the voice of the stakeholders impacted and I know that not all stakeholders will care and will fight you on the change. This is social cause advocacy 101. I also know that when you talk safety, sometimes rules need to be made. Period and end of story.

I am advocating for a different system of education and judging of the Regional A, non WGI bound regional guards. I am advocating for dialog. If we are truly in this for the kids, then we need to start looking at how training occurs and what the skills are we are demanding in these classes. We will all win in the end, when education takes priority over competition and ego.

If I Were The Bartender At Headquarters

It's coming up on that time again. In just a few short weeks, we will all be settling into our digs at headquarters sharing that first cocktail with friends and teammates from years past. I have always wanted to be the bartender at the Marriott during WGI. I think it would be a blast. In fact, I have always felt as if the bartender should be some old performer from 1984 State Street or from the Miller's Color Show and their only job is to be the purveyor of the drinks. Picture it.

"Hey girl how are you doing tonight?"
"Oh you know. Not what I thought it was going to be this year."
"Who are you with?"
"Bahama Independent."
"Oh yeah, I heard. Saw the recap. Here you go. There's an extra shot in there for ya."

I mean...how cool would that be! The bartender at headquarters should always be some old guard queen from the 80's that once wore sequins and had red prism tape wrapped around the tip of their rifle. Or...wouldn't it be cool to have Marilyn from Miamisburg or the girl from Field of View who screamed, "Youurrrreeee Fiiirrre (D)!" The bartender should always, always, always be a person who marched at least 20 years from the current season. As the weeks goes on, the bartenders become part empath, part historian, and part entertainment.

If I were the bartender I would create drinking games for every time we heard the phrase, "The judges." Then we would take a shot for every person who walked in the door wearing more than one medal around their neck. There is the obligatory shot any time someone cried or the twenty something who wore a tux to A Class finals on Saturday morning at 9:30 a.m. in the Nutter Center and still wearing it at midnight. I mean...the possibilities are endless. There would be a round of free drinks when you heard the phrase, "Oh I don't care about the placement...as long as the kids enjoyed themselves." As we all take a drink, we would all raise our glasses with a collective, "Yeah...o.k." We would all drink when someone debated what entertainment really is.

My ultimate act of bartending would be to create a special WGI menu of drinks. Your order would reflect day of the week, placement, mood, and age.

Wednesday Night

The Parrot--Here's the thing. You made it this far. I don't care if you are a competitor, judge, or the contest staff. If you are physically sitting in Dayton, then it means that you made it. You need this great cocktail made up of Malibu Pineapple Rum, strawberry puree, and orange juice. It's light and bright and drink up, because you have no idea how this week will turn out. By the end of the week my friend, you might be drowning your sorrows in a rum based Dark and Stormy.


Thursday Night...Prelims Day

Shiraz--This nice glass of Shiraz is for the Semi-finalist who still needs to get up tomorrow morning for practice  and then fight through the muddle of other semi-finalists for the ultimate hope of not being the first guard out of finals, because well...that really sucks.

Sam Adams--You can't go wrong with a Sam Adams when you still have a semi-finals run tomorrow. You are well placed and should stand strong against the other 12 guards in the neighborhood of 7th-18th. Be careful, though. You don't want to be the guard who drops their rifles all the way out of finals.

Old Fashioned--Today was rough. We feel ya. We've all been there. This is what you need. It's the cocktail of the ages and the story of Dayton. This wasn't your year. Whiskey and Bitters. You can't go wrong. Drink up and then have two more.

Margarita--Yes Girl! This is your year. You are solidly in the top 3 and you can feel that medal around your neck. Enjoy the tequila, but be careful sunshine...One well timed drop on the 50 can send you flying from second to fourth in a heartbeat. Good luck with that.

Cosmopolitan--This is the drink for anyone who came to the realization back in February that their guard will be lucky if they even make it to Dayton with the rickety old bus you had to rent, because half of the performers failed to pay their dues. Here's to you. You made it to the end. Enjoy the rest of your weekend.

Zinfandel--Shhhh....You're a judge. We won't tell anyone you were here. Take this drink in this plastic cup and everyone will believe it's a Sprite. Don't make eye contact with anyone on your way out. "Don't anyone recognize them. Everyone look at your shoes!"

Friday Night...Semi Finals

Negroni--Girl you didn't make it to the big dance. Sorry. Really. We feel ya. You need this delicate blend of one part gin, one part vermouth, and one part campari. You of course want the orange peel garnish. Oh screw it. You don't need the garnish. Just the drink. Straight up and of course...we will keep them coming.

Cabernet--You made it to the big dance. CONGRATULATIONS! However, you are 20th place in A class...going on in the Nutter Center tomorrow morning and your wake up call is 3:30 a.m. Don't drink too much. We will see you tomorrow afternoon after your nap.

Planters Punch--You made it in! Yay for you! You are so excited, because you never thought they would make it. Go for it. Who cares at this point? You had 14 freshman, a percussion guy, and two trumpets that made up your guard. You go girl! Dark rum is for you.

Heineken--Because the contest staff and volunteers need a drink, too as they had to deal with the guy drinking the Negroni when they couldn't pull their floor off fast enough. Don't drink too much tonight, though. Tomorrow is the big day and it's Dayton so expect rain, mixed with sleet and snow.

Saturday Night...Finals

Saturday is split up into two parts. The first part of the day is the afternoon break before World finals, but after Open and A finals...whenever that's actually going to end. The cocktails in the afternoon are fruity and fresh. It's going to be a long night and you need to start light.

Madras--This drink of vodka, cranberry, and orange juice is a perfect starter to the final end. 30 guards to go and you are finished. Enjoy this cocktail with friends and celebrate a much earned summer break.

Screwdriver--This is another easy one. Enjoy it, but while you do it, stop talking about the amazing show you are doing next year. There is a reason you didn't make it out of Thursday. Shut up and drink.

Tom Collins--You missed finals by one tenth and well...you need this. Gin on the rocks mixed with lemon juice and sugar syrup. Have two. Oh hell...have three. This is going to be a long night for you.

Champagne--Your guard is the guard to beat. Congratulations! Although, most everyone hates you and wishes you would just go away somewhere far...enjoy tonight. World Class finalist. Celebrate with your staff and enjoy your success.

Midnight...Finals is over

Martini--Yaaassss! It is the night we have all been waiting for. This drink is for those that can hold their posture with grace and class. You didn't make finals. You were last place. You were first place. Who gives a shit. This is the drink for those who carried themselves with grace all week. Drink up!

Red Wine Sangria--Pure party drink for the big party going on in room 117. None of you have taught in 10 years. You're only here to see colorguard, old friends, and bitch about the changing culture. Enjoy.

Strawberry Mojito--This drink is all about the fun. Vodka, strawberries, limes, and a bunch of other fruity stuff. This is for the kids who just turned 21 and are prancing around in their costumes with their medals. In all seriousness...we are old and please come back when you are wearing Depends and remember the good old days.

Bad Girl Punch--Be careful of this one. This drink is for the world staff's that made it to the end. Good for you. When the rest of our weekends ended at 4:18 on Friday afternoon and we started drinking at 5:16 at the closet dive bar we could find...you pushed through. You made it. Now go out and celebrate your success.

X-Rated Punch--This vodka and X Rated Fusion Liqueur is perfect for the person who doesn't care anymore, but needs a little well..something else to make the weekend complete. Go ahead.

Sunday...the day after

Bloody Mary--Because damn....See you next year.

That's it folks. That's the Dayton cocktail menu in the world according me...the aspiring official bartender of the WGI World Championships. Look for me there. I'll be sitting at the corner table with my signature drink a double tall Madras with Absolute.

Letting Perfection Become the Enemy of Good

This is a topic that I have struggled with much of my teaching career. I am without a doubt, hands down the picture in the dictionary of a perfectionist. I struggled with it growing up and I have struggled with it as an adult. At my job, at work, as a parent, as a wife, as a friend, and most certainly as a color guard instructor; I have struggled. I use the word "struggle," because being a perfectionist is an internal struggle and it impacts everyone around you. Over the years, I've learned to contain it and harness the feeling of "it's not good enough and that's o.k." There's a balance though, and finding a balance of not good enough vs. it needs more work, is where I have done my most growth as a youth coach.

It's March and the end of the tunnel is within reach and in the sights of all involved, but there's a big job to do and to me, the hardest part of the season is upon us. This is where we as staff members must make some choices. Do we continue down the path we are on and just clean? Do we take out that one scary and not so successful moment? Do we water? This is the time to make choices and the choice is this. What is it that will make the kids feel most successful in the end and what design and cleaning decisions will get you the biggest bang for your buck?

The biggest question is this, however. How do you maintain high expectations, without compromising the original intentions of the program? Additionally, how do you do it without destroying the kids and program in the process? I believe March is what makes or breaks a program and I'm not just talking about the current season. You also have to think about the future in terms of retention and recruitment. I'll be honest with you. There are moments in my past as an instructor that I regret how I responded to bad performances at a show or regional. I let the idea that this one particular moment we had been working on for a week get to me, when that one moment wasn't at the success level of my expectations. As a young instructor and even as an old instructor, the balance in my brain is constantly fighting itself. I watch the guard from the top and have to divorce myself from the drop on the 50 or sabre feature that missed its mark in clarity, and find what's right...while finding what we need to work most on. The clock is ticking and it's ticking fast. This is the time of year we triage. What takes precedence and what part is bleeding the most?

If you don't have a staff to bounce ideas off of after a show, then you have a much harder road ahead of you and I know some of you are out there. Most of us though, have someone on staff we can ask the question, "What did you think?" If you don't ask the tough questions and get the perspective of someone else, then your brain will start to play tricks on you. What you see as a catastrophe, might just be a rough moment. What you see as great, could very well be what is denial. You need to talk to people and you need to ask for additional perspectives. You need to listen to your audio files. Remember, the judges don't always look where you do and they don't know what you worked on the night before. Also remember that the judges want you to be successful. They are not your enemy and only want the best, so listen to them as a trusted consultant. If you are in it alone, then find someone...a trusted parent of the program...a friend...a colleague...and ask them. "What did you think?"

The next question you need to ask is this. "Did we set the right goals and do we need to readjust those goals?" Going forth into March without assessing your goals is foolish. Going forth into March without assessing the minds of the performers and staff is also foolish. Where are the kids at? What will make them successful? How far should I push them? What will break them? Should I try to break them? Should I coddle them?

Let me be clear about something. Sometimes performers need the tough love at this point of the season and it is necessary. Sometimes they need just love. I can't answer the question for you, because this is where being a good coach comes into play. You need to know your kids and play to the place where their minds are at on the journey. Sometimes they get it into their heads that THEY are not good enough and their minds begin to play tricks on them. This is where the drops are tend to come from at this point in the season. This is where we ask ourselves as staff members, "What do I do with the soloist that has everything riding on their shoulders in the opening of the show with the sabre quad and she has now begun to drop it consistently?" I can't say I always know the answer. I get just as perplexed as the rest of you, but what I try to do is think, "What would have worked for me?" I was a perfectionist and I never truly felt good about myself as a performer. I never felt the show was good enough. I missed a hand placement, a count, or God forbid I dropped. When I use to tech in my early years, I missed so many great moments with my programs, because someone missed a hand placement, a count, or God forbid a drop. I missed the smiles or the great recoveries. I missed the energy or the kid in the back who finally caught her flag toss.

So this is my suggestion. Don't let perfection be the enemy of good. Don't! Find the good and assess the problems. Gage the energy of the performers as they come off the floor. Listen to audience reaction. Want to know a trick? After the show and after you have watched the show several times on video AND listened to your audio files; go back and play the video with head phones in your ear, close your eyes, and just listen to the crowd. Are they reacting the way you want? Many times, the audience will tell you what you need to fix.  I watch my video's several times. The following system is the order I do it in.

• Listen to the audio files...take notes
• Watch the video for pure reaction
• Watch the video for cleaning purposes...take notes
• Watch the video for cleaning purposes...take notes
• Watch the video for cleaning purposes...take notes
• Watch the video to see where it is I'm irritated with the design (because well...it isn't a good week until I've made a designer angry at least once)
• Listen for crowd reaction
• Send the video to someone else...listen to feedback without defense
• Make a schedule that goes all the way to championships

It's amazing when you follow my system, that you will start to see more good than not. You will start to see that the show isn't perfect and it never will be. Your show will never be perfect. It won't be perfect at any show, at any time, at any point in the season. This does not mean that you don't keep pushing for the perfect catch and the perfect flag statement. It doesn't mean you don't keep your expectations high. It means that you keep assessing and cleaning and assessing and cleaning, but you never let perfection become the enemy of good. You assess and you clean all the way until the last moment, in the last show at warm up and when it's over, you celebrate the kids, your parents and your staff. You celebrate the good and then you assess for next season, but don't let that drop in the last show of the year, be your enemy that carries your program into summer.

Keep your expectations high and the kids will rise to the challenge. They want to rise to the challenge. When it's all said and done I want you to remember this. They are harder on themselves then you could ever be. As a perfectionist myself, no instructor was ever harder on me than I was on myself and I had some tough ones. I had Ping, David Baker, and Jeff Wroblewski. Great instructors all of them, but none of them were tougher on me than me. Let that guide you through March. 

The Pageantry Arts and Our Diversity Problem by the Numbers

Last Sunday night I sat like many of us did, with popcorn and wine by my side, and watched the Academy Awards. I listened while Chris Rock brilliantly took jab after jab at the Academy for its lack of diversity in nominating black actors, actresses, directors, and writers. This was not by far the first year I have followed this issue. Part of my professional job is to understand media trends and how those trends influence young people. I not only follow, but read the research put out by the Geena Davis Institute and Women's Media Center every year on the jobs offered to women in the media. I'm a follower of the Women's Sports Foundation who also track participation of women in sport at all levels of play and leadership. That's my focus, so when the topic of the lack of nominations for the African American community surfaced, it didn't shock me nor offended me. I already knew much of the data. This post however, is about women. It's the women of the pageantry arts and how we are represented. 

Let me be clear, I don't present information like this without facts to back it up. This is one main reason I can't speak to the issue of ethnicity in our activity. We don't have the data and I can't go to a website and look it up as easily as I can with gender. However, it is important to note that just because this post is about women, does not mean I believe that we demonstrate equal representation in the African American, Asian, or Hispanic communities; although the United States Census tells a different story. One look at a Dayton arena floor or in the stands toward the judges and it's easy to see that we have a diversity issue.

This post is about women and I get my information from 4 websites: Music For All, Drum Corps International. Winter Guard International, and Guide Star. My numbers come from these websites and are as accurate as the website presents it. Let's start with the numbers.

All three national pageantry organizations have common denominators and although each organization is structured differently and present different elements in our activity, they all have certain elements in common related around the competitive aspects of our sport. Some venture more into education than others, but they all have a competitive component. These numbers are my main focus.

All three organizations have judges. I looked at the judges for all major finals events in 2015 and came up with these numbers.

DCI

World Class

Prelims--11 judges

Male-11

Female-0

Semi Finals--11 judges

Male-9

Female-2

Finals--11 judges

Male-10

Female-1

Bands of America

Thursday Prelims--7 Judges

Male-7

Female-0

Friday Prelims--7 Judges

Male-7

Female-0

Semi-Finals--7 Judges

Male-5

Female-2

Finals--7 Judges

Male-7

Female-0

WGI--Colorguard

Scholastic A--10 Judges

Male-7

Female-3

Independent A--10 Judges

Male-8

Female-2

Scholastic Open--10 Judges

Male-9

Female-1

Independent Open--10 Judges

Male-9

Female-1

Scholastic World--10 Judges

Male-9

Female-1

Independent World--10 Judges

Male-9

Female-1

There were a total of 121 judges in the major finals shows in 2015 and 13% were female. I am not including WGI Percussion or Winds in these numbers for sake of space, but make no mistake...those numbers are worse.

Now I want you to look at the Hall of Fames. All three organizations have Hall of Fames. I've broken them out by organization.

DCI--Began Hall of Fame started in 1985

Total honorees--119

Male--113

Female--6

Jim Jones Leadership Award--DCI Started in 1997

Total--27

Male--20

Female--6

Music For All--Hall of Fame started in 2003

Total--43

Male--38

Female--5

WGI

Total--58

Male--47

Female--11

The total female honorees in the three organizations is 11%.

So why does it matter? What's the big damn deal? The big damn deal is because we are a collective activity made up of a significant amount of women who perform, teach, judge, and administrate. No one to my knowledge is capturing this information across the country as to what the total percentage of females to males are participating in various aspects, because if they did, I think the ratio's would look a lot different than percentages in the low teens, specifically color guard. Growing up female in America bares its challenges as we struggle with the concepts of body image perpetrated by the media and messages received in the work place. This is crucial in guard specifically, because it appears, (I have no numbers as no one collects these numbers), that the men design and choreograph at significantly higher numbers and the women tech. In our activity, designers make more money than techs. That is a fact. We don't collect information on salary or hours worked in this activity, because if we did, someone might be able to make a true case for inequality in pay.

Speaking of salaries...let me throw out some numbers for you. 

$109,208

$169,796

$128,533

These are the collective salaries for top CEO's of the three major national organizations as reported through Guide Star and all of these salaries are made by men.  Music For All comes closest to having an equal ratio of male/female equality in the workplace, as the CFO is a woman. They have approximately an equal number of managers and directors in various capacities within the organization, however the top dog is still a man and according to Guide Star, still makes almost $60,000 more a year. Now, I am not here to make a case as to who deserves more money based on experience or resume. All I can do is show you the numbers. WGI however, is male driven at the top in terms of executive positions and the board of directors. There are 16 members who sit on the Board of Directors at WGI and 4 are women. Music For All has 17 listed Board members with 2 women represented. Their Educational Team consists of 10 members and 1 is a woman. DCI's Board of Director's is all male. How diverse of them.

Women make up on 14% of the Board of Director's of the nationally based organizations combined.

Here is what I can say. I can say that all of these numbers are as accurate as the websites state and what they reported to the IRS. I can't say why we are male heavy and why females are missing in the ranks of the leadership positions. As someone who works daily in government statistics, I know that multiple factors make up those numbers. It could be something as simple as women didn't want the positions. It could be that no woman applied for the CEO positions for the three organization's. I know when I look at funding for the non profits my organization funds, that before dime one is given, we look at the make up of the board. We want to know if the people they represent, are represented in leadership. It is important that the face of the participant has a voice in leadership. Only a woman can tell you what it is like to be a woman, just like only a black man can tell you what it is like to be a black man. Same thing goes for being gay, Hispanic, Muslim, or disabled. If women don't have a strong leadership voice at the top, then how can we advocate for their participation? 

I now want to stretch this and bring to a point I've been speaking about and writing about all winter season. The topic is training. We have an issue with defining and understanding training in the color guard activity. We don't really try to create dialog around it, except to say that guards need better training. Most of our judges in the winter guard activity are male, but the ones that are female are mostly in the IA caption. There are no numbers to my knowledge as to how many judges we have nationwide locally and nationally, but from what I can tell, judges up top in GE and DA tend to be male and IA judges tend to be female...give or take. Most of our chief judges are male and most of those males are GE or DA judges. Most circuit Presidents are male. The females in the activity are heavy on the technician side. Now...let's ask this question. Who should be making the decisions on how we discuss training? Should it be the techs of the programs and the IA judges whose job it is to mention training at every turn of every show and who are basically sitting on the floor with the kids? Most of our trainings at the local level are designed based and when I brought this up to three different circuits, you know what I got? "No one cares about this topic. No one will come." Bullshit! I call foul. Get the right women in the right place to promote training and the people will come. We know what to say, because we are in the trenches at higher numbers.

When Paradigm spun the flag with their feet in 2005, it was without a doubt one of the most impressive flag features ever seen at WGI to that point. I was the lead tech of the program. Want to know how many judges in critique asked me how I cleaned it and what my approach was? Zero. When WGI did a focus piece on it, it was the choreographer who was featured, but it was the tech team that made it fabulous and stayed up late at night analyzing the video second by second. What is the value we place on the roles in our activity?

I write this because I don't believe there are people who sit around all day in the leadership of the pageantry arts trying to screw over women. I think it's pretty simple. We just haven't paid attention. I write this because, as a tech, I get called a bitch all the time but it's my job to make sure the final product is technically solid. That's a tough job. I write this, because there is a difference in our activity on how we speak about women vs. men. I've heard people say that male designers have that creative temper, but as a woman we've been called bitches for expecting our rifle line to catch correctly and doing the hard job of "again." I write this, because I want a teenage girl to look up into the stands and see that one day she too, can be a GE judge or the CEO of WGI, DCI, or MFA. I want her to know she can design and choreograph and make money doing it! I want her to know that she can administrate. I haven't even mentioned contest administrators. T&P judges. Announcers. How many female announcers do we hear at any national event? Every one of these people get paid. Money is made and it is mostly made by men. We should care about this topic and do something about it. It's time.

This is a complex subject and it isn't going away. My recommendation? Put a diversity committee together across the country to look into it. Oh by the way, I sit on Pinellas County's Diversity Committee...in case you need some guidance.

Training! What does It All Mean??

"Individuals understand the introductory skills and achieve a consistent degree of uniformity in method and timing."

"The choreographed vocabulary contains a good introductory/beginning range with variety and some versatility."

Uh...huh. I've been in the activity a long time and I've taught and judged and taught and judged and used the judge words and put the numbers down and taught and judged. Today however, I was judging a unit that kind of stopped me. I looked at the sheet and then the sheet above it and I looked at the boxes and literally thought, "What the hell is an introductory skill?" What is it? If it's so easy to put these words on to a piece of paper and use it as criteria to rank and rate units, then why can't we actually define it? Why can't I come into a show as a judge and say the phrase, "Well low and behold look at this. You have demonstrated that this is clearly not an introductory skill."

What about this?

"The range of the choreographed vocabulary for this class is broad and well understood." Broad and well understood. Broad and well understood. Broad and well understood. Say it ten times fast and you know what will happen? You still won't know what broad and well understood really means. My personal favorite is, "Dynamic gradations of space, time, weight, and flow are usually achieved." Ummm....o.k. How do you quantify a "usually?"

Have you ever wanted to take 20 people and put them outside of a gym and bring them into the gym one at a time and say the words, "Show me a basic skill and then demonstrate for me a basic phrase on any piece of equipment of your choosing and when you are done with that, explain to me the training process you would take to get performers to understand a good degree of physical and mental development for that phrase." Now, what if 10 of those people were judges and 10 of those people were instructors of the Regional A and A classes, who were young and somewhat naive? What would we get? Now, what if those 10 judges were split between national judges and local judges? What would we get? Anyone want to play the game, because I'll bet my next paycheck on the fact that we would see 20 different approaches and 20 different answers. Until we acknowledge the fact that we still have not come to a consensus on what we are asking the young guards to achieve, then how can we sit and use the phrases such as, "Your vocabulary range doesn't fit the class or your training program doesn't fit the book the kids were given." I'll tell you what I think. I teach at various levels and judge all over the country. I'll tell you what isn't introductory or beginning...a back hand on flag release behind the back into an immediate release of a 45 toss out of it. Something else that isn't a basic skill...a quad with lower body contributions such as single foot balance or deliberate shift in weight, yet I see it all the time all over the country in the lower classes. However, when I teach my high school guard those skills and break it down and teach the techniques behind it, I start to think, "Well then...that wasn't easy." Am I a bad tech? Do I not know how to teach those skills? I'm not thinking that's the case. I'm thinking that we don't know what the hell introductory, beginning, and intermediate really are and the training process it takes to get them there.

I live in a world where everything we have to do is S.M.A.R.T. Anyone who has worked in the professional realm for longer than 8 minutes knows this acronym.

Specific...Measurable...Achievable...Realistic...Timely.

This is how our Regional A sheets should be created. A specific guideline that tells anyone who designs for and techs for these guards what is expected and the timeline for achievement. We act in this activity that if we were to say that a quad is an introductory skill or basic skill or intermediate skill or whatever, that somehow we would hurt the delicate sensibilities of the instructors and designers around the country. We go into these discussions that if we were to actually define introductory or beginning or intermediate that we would strip the design choices out of the hands of the units. Oh please. My philosophy is that Regional A is a training class and if your guard or you as an instructor needs to be in this class, then we need some more damn guidance than a sheet that reads like a toy given to a child on Christmas day that can't be put together, because the directions are in Japanese. I'll also tell you what isn't a basic skill and not even intermediate. It's equipment work that is manipulated by one hand that explores alternate angles by use of the wrist only. Have you ever seen a 15 year old girl who barely weighs 75 pounds wet try to manipulate equipment with one hand? Have you ever seen them disengage the body to just achieve? How do you train for that? Do we train for that? Do we really as an activity train to strengthen the wrist in this day and age of multiple one handed planal work? I said to a guard today while judging, that the wrist didn't support the work and more training needed to happen before the kids could achieve. After I said that I thought, "Bad Shelba. Bad." What I should have said was, "Take the damn thing out before one of those girls breaks their wrist!" But what does it mean anyway? It's so easy as judges for us to sit back and say that a guard needs better training, but what does it really take for a guard to be truly trained in one handed, end of pole, multi-planal work?

I want to sit with every downstairs judge around the country at the national level and ask the question. Do you know? What is the training for one handed, end of the pole, multi-planal work? I am personally mad as hell that we are given sheets to work off of, but they lack such specific guidelines that it forces the guards at the bottom to struggle in writing and in training. We are so afraid to define it, because then it would force us to meet somewhere in the middle and say, "You know what? Maybe one handed, end of the pole, multi-planal work is something that we should only do if a guard is shooting for the top 10 of A class." It also would force us to say, "To do that particular skill, we expect you to train the wrist in such a way that it builds the muscles around it to support in a healthy way the development of the wrist." It would force personal trainers to be hired at the national level to evaluate the skills. It would force risk managers to look at the skills and say "No way. This is a lawsuit waiting to happen."

Why are we so afraid to really discuss skill and training? I take pride as a judge the information I give to Regional A and A class units; specifically the ones not headed to Dayton or a regional. I love those guards. I love challenging myself weekend after weekend to make sure that what I say doesn't sound like I'm speaking at the U.N. to a group of delegates from China. Each week I strive to make sure that when I leave, the units in the lower classes get more than judge speak. I listen to a lot of audio files from many different judges and it makes me angry when I'm listening to an A class guard who clearly isn't a regional bound team and hear a judge say something like this, "The training doesn't support the dimensionality of the phrase when the body is in the bound position." Seriously? How about this? "Hey you guys, you are trying to constrict the body to create different efforts and I get it, but I if you want to do this phrase, the kids are going to need specific level body training in contractions to better understand breath and release." I know I know. We aren't supposed to be teaching the guards. However, I don't care what we are suppose to and not be doing. I don't care. Sue me. Don't bring me in again. What I care about, is that the instructor who is 25 years old on their first go round in the activity understand what the hell I'm saying and that when they hear my voice they get pointed information on what training means, so the kids are successful and feel good about themselves.

Being in the trenches is important. I pride myself on being in the trenches. I pride myself on not walking on the floor with 47 guards, but just one or two and building training programs that makes the kids feel successful.

So what is an introductory skill? What is it in movement? When we blend body and equipment, when does introductory move to basic and then to intermediate? Picture this. I'm teaching a guard who is in let's say the Triple A or A3 type of class. Kids who can barely walk and chew gum at the same time. We now know we are on the A sheet. Intermediate is a word we will start hearing and exploring. However, when we came out of Regional A, no one really told us what introductory or basic constituted. I start writing harder work. Judges are telling me the kids don't have the training to support the new one handed, off center work. Except, training was never really defined for me. Now the work is harder and I still don't know how to adjust the training program or even if I should. All the clinics offered in my area is based on design. I now know how to create an effect, because my local circuit paid some high priced designer to come in to teach how to build effect and create production value. Well this is what I say to that. Whoop dee doo! My floor looks great. That $2,000 was spent well. Wow! The costumes. Look at them. The effects. They were built so well and now I understand how to build effects like a pro, but wait. While building into the effect, the kids passed through planes they didn't understand, used methods of travel that challenges them, because they really don't know how to jump in the air and then come out of that jump and continue with a nice flow through the lower body, and when they got to the big toss they just chucked equipment in the air and caught. YAY! They caught! Good for them, but unfortunately the toss was thrown wrong, different elbows, wrist energy, and free hands, but good for me...I built an effect and the kids caught! Now...I can build effect. I'm a pro. Congratulations to me. My guard has now been promoted into the Double A class. My kids still have underdeveloped lower bodies and they don't toss well. I have now learned as a designer the concept of smoke and mirrors. And the cycle goes on and on.

Specific. Measurable. Achievable. Realistic. Timely.

Specifically, there are skills that those of us on the true front lines know what is introductory and basic. We can measure it on a daily basis by the struggles of the young performer and the bad habits they build why we as an activity try to figure out introductory, basic, and intermediate. Achievement is confidence of knowing how to do your show with fluidity and breath. Realistic is setting goals of knowing when it is a young performer is to have learned and mastered a double, triple, and quad. Being realistic in knowing when to put in lower body blended elements. Timely. All of this should be timely in the fact that kids shouldn't have to wait until Championships to finally feel a small amount of success. It shouldn't take from band camp to April Championships for quads and leaps to become comfortable and achievable.

We are hurting the kids by not defining and having dialog about what these words mean and what training truly looks like. I'll tell you this, though. I talk about it. I talk about it all the time. I listen and teach. I teach how to read a recap for the  messages being sent. I teach instructors to listen to common themes on all 5 tapes. I teach on my tapes how to clean a phrase and what specific training exercises will help train the skill and one last thing. I have no problem telling them to take it out. It's about the kids and their feeling of success and to do that I want an instructor to understand how to create success and what success really means. Recently I heard someone say to an instructor, "All the criteria is on the sheet. You need to read it." Well how elitist of you, I thought. Later, I pulled that instructor aside and gave her my phone number. I told her to call me and that I'll walk her through the Chinese words written on the sheet and what they really mean.

Training. Criteria. Introductory. Basic. Intermediate. What do they mean and who are we serving by keeping these words in a nebulous of confusion?  When we decide to get in the mindset and understand the unique problems of these classes, then we will decide to have better dialog.