Ping Pong

One of my wife’s and mine great failures as parents was not having a ping-pong table in our house. Goodness knows we tried.  Literally bought one one Christmas and brought it home only to realize that there wasn’t a single space in our modest house where it fit. Likewise no place for a basketball hoop. I sometimes wonder if all subsequent family problems (which were and are mild, to be sure) can be traced back to that. 

 

Alongside the great privilege of vacationing with the grandkids in a place with a pool and a hot tub came the unexpected gift of a ping pong table. We have played every day in every combination of people and it has been a sheer delight. My wife who earlier lamented that she can’t do the same kind of activities with our pre-teen grandchild that she’s enjoyed in the past played a few fabulous ping-pong games with her and that made all the difference. 

 

In my predictable way of turning every little story into a blueprint for solving world problems, wouldn’t this be a better solution than war? For Congressional squabbles? For marital disputes? At least less destructive and more fun. Of course, the fiercely competitive streaks that some of us have would surface and we might be cursing and hitting the table with our paddle and sulking, all of which I’ll confess too in small doses after daughter Talia beats me game after game. So it’s not foolproof. But mostly fun.

 

Ping-pong is one of my favorite metaphors for good teaching. The teacher throws out a ping, the student responds with a pong and the game is on! Sometimes the student serves, but no matter who first, the volley of ideas and imaginative responses go back and forth. Some don’t make it over the net, some fly off the table, but it’s in the very process of playing that makes it all engaging, dynamic, connected and pleasurable. No pre-set curriculums are possible (“The first serve must go into the left corner and the student must hit it back to the corresponding right corner…"). You simply have to be attentive, wholly in the moment and constantly crafting your ability to both serve and respond. I recently read that Thelonious Monk was a fabulous ping-pong player and knowing who he was a musician, that makes perfect sense. 

A glorious day awaits with hiking, swimming, cooking on the agenda—and of course, ping pong. 

 

PS Bonus little poem from this morning:

 

The doorbell rang “Ding Dong”

In its merry sing-song

Two-note musical style

 

In walked King Kong

To play a game of ping-pong

And hit the ball a half a mile.