Reading and writing about the Golden State Warriors "Silly Fines Committee" got me thinking. It's time for the faculty and staff of Saint Ignatius College Prep (and many other high schools for that matter) to implement our own. We need to laugh and laugh at ourselves. I truly believe humor is an important ingredient for creating community and boosting morale. Believe you me, I take myself as a teacher too seriously. Yet great teaching is both an art and a science, and both demand quite a bit, especially laughter. All the more reason for self deprecation, embracing our humanity, celebrating our falls and foibles.
At last year's faculty retreat, I shared a Doppleganger slide show. My colleagues and I loved it. We talked about the dead ringers, indirect matches, and quirky connections for weeks. What some people came up with was surprising. Among others, it was a stretch to see the similarity! Quite a few were nothing short of hilarious. I stared thinking about what we could do this year and the Dubs' came to mind. I realized the only way this comes to fruition is from the buy in, support and participation from a colleague or two. There's no way I could do this alone.
I turned to my co-worker—a veteran teacher, a man with an outstanding sense of humor who others trust and revere and shared the idea. "Ah Kangaroo Court" he cried. He added, "I love it. We could never do it--are you kidding me? People have thin skin today? I'm sure I would lose my job."
He wouldn't, but he's right—a thick skin is rare these days. And that's a shame. Here's why
For those unfamiliar with the term, Kangaroo court an unofficial court held by a group of people in order to try someone regarded, especially without good evidence, as guilty of a crime or misdemeanor. It's best when it organically grows from within a community, self regulates and is an equal opportunity offender. Similar to the "silly fines committee" people are assessed a penalty based on the degree of misconduct. And, by misconduct the court calls out an act that elicits an eye roll, points to a person's shortcomings in a silly way, and speaks the truth about who we are good, bad or otherwise. Fines are arbitrary and that is part of the fun.
" shares how something like Kangaroo Court can help new comers and outsiders feel included—not excluded. Joan Ryan writes,
“Kevin Mitchell (“ Mitch”) was not your average American ballplayer.” He spent five uneven, sometimes tumultuous years in the minors before landing in the big leagues during the Mets’ run to the 1986 World Series. Mets star Gary Carter nicknamed him “World” because he could play six different positions. Mitch had never felt anything like the joy and love in the clubhouse the night the Mets beat the Red Sox in Game 7. He and his teammates wrapped their arms around each other like brothers. He thought he’d be with them forever. A couple of months later, however, he was traded to the Padres. And then to the Giants.”
Mitch’s head still churned with plans to quit baseball when he arrived at the visitors’ clubhouse at Wrigley Field. He watched his Padres teammates throw their arms around Giants players they knew from previous teams. Mitch knew no one. He didn’t want to be there in any case. As Mitch hunted for his locker, Craig summoned the new player into his office. Of course, Mitch thought. The manager had just lost his All-Star third baseman for a twice-traded reject with a bad rep. Not wasting any time to grill me. Craig rose from his desk and grasped Mitch’s hand with his big paw.
“Glad you’re here,” the manager said. “I know you can play the game. That’s why we got you. Just go out there and play and have fun. Enjoy what we got going on here. We got us a great bunch of guys.”
Mitch emerged to find Krukow waiting for him. “Glad I don’t have to see your mug at the plate anymore,” Kruke said, smiling. Mitch undressed and pulled his new Giants jersey off the hanger. No name on the back. He looked over at Dravecky and Lefferts. Their jerseys had their names. See? he thought. I don’t matter.
One day, after the team returned to San Francisco, Mitchell noticed Krukow and other veterans shooing reporters out of the clubhouse. “Kangaroo court!” someone yelled. Players pulled their stools together to face a panel of judges that included Krukow. Bob Brenly served as the keeper of the infractions book, in which any player could register charges”against any other player—or coach, clubbie, or trainer. Back then, most teams had kangaroo courts. In some clubhouses, judges wore mops as wigs like clownish barristers. The best courts were both hilarious and merciless. It was open season on complainers, who drew the most outrageous charges and biggest fines. The message was clear: either stop whining or continue to be mocked and fined.
Brenly opened the notebook and began reading the charges. No court could operate without Jesters, and Brenly and Krukow were among the funniest in baseball.
A player might get fined simply for not getting fined in the previous court. Mitch watched from the back of the clubhouse and found himself giggling despite understanding almost none of the inside jokes. Then he heard his name. He’d been with the team barely a week. How could he have landed in the book already? Brenly read off the infractions:
- No name on his jersey.
- Showing off by hitting two home runs in his first game as a Giant.
- Having a bulletproof tooth.
- Putting fourteen animals on the endangered-species list with one outfit.
Mitch laughed harder with each charge until he was stomping his feet. “We buried him,” Krukow recalled later, “and he loved it.”
It worked because someone took notice and wrote it down/passed it on. Someone paid attention to details—quirky, unique, personal and real of teammates new and old. All were subject to the friendly fire and the mystery fines associated with it. The result? Community. Identity. Understanding. Humanity.
I'm still working on what a faculty Kangaroo Court will look like. If you have one that works in your community in this day and age, please share. The in meantime, just enjoy thinking of what you can charge others...and what might get you convicted.
Photo Credits
Kangaroo Court
Kevin Mitchell
Giants Dugout
— Intangibles: Unlocking the Science and Soul of Team Chemistry by Joan Ryan
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