Ice Skating Alone
& The (Not So) Subliminal Messages from Early 2000s Skating Movies
For about a month, I’ve taken to a local ice rink once a week for a favorite winter activity: ice skating. I realized that the most typical reason I would leave the house alone was for drinks with friends, which is great, but not the only thing I could be leaving the house for as a whole human.
My love for ice skating started as a kid. We would go to the local ice rink at least once each season, but usually many more times. When I was really young, I had one of my most embarrassing sports injuries on the ice. I was racing some friends across the rink (and winning), until I hit a knick in the ice and fell flat on my face. I scraped half of my face up on the ice and it stayed that way for what felt like an eternity as a second grader. I had awkward middle school dates there. I had so many fun nights out with friends there. My parents even rented the rink for me for my 16th birthday. It was truly a favorite spot.
The early 2000s were the setting for my childhood, and two solid movies about figure skating: Ice Princess (2005) and Go Figure (also 2005). I remember watching Ice Princess as a kid, relating to the main character because she defined her life by her schoolwork, and imagining my life as a professional figure skater as a result. To summarize this film for those who haven’t seen it, a nerdy high school girl who loves physics embarks on a special project for a physics scholarship where she starts to apply physics concepts to improve figure skaters performance at a local rink. She grew up figure skating on a pond outside her house for fun, and uncovers a hidden talent for skating as she works with a famous coach, the most popular girl in school, and other girls trying to qualify for the Olympic team.
The opening scene where the scholarship is introduced has a conversation that perfectly sums up an imperfect message about callings our generation was given.
[Scene written below starts at 2:31]
Physics Teacher: I was curious if you started weighing your college options?
Casey (Main Character - High Schooler, Physics Whiz, and Figure Skater): Options?
Physics Teacher: Have you heard of the Helen Stahler scholarship. It’s given to someone in this part of the state who shows the most promise in the sciences.
Casey: Wouldn’t that be Anne or Wyatt?
Physics Teacher: Nope, it’s you. You have a calling Casey.
Casey: I do? What is it?
Physics Teacher: Physics… You’re very lucky, some people search their whole lives for their calling.
Casey: They do? How do you know if you have a calling?
Physics Teacher: When your brilliant teacher tells you so. And of course your 11 straight A+s on exams are a hint.
Mic drop. ”When your brilliant teacher tells you so.” This message is one that John Taylor Gatto writes about in Dumbing Us Down. A speech that comprises Chapter 1 of this book is titled “The Seven-Lesson Schoolteacher.” Lessons five and six are the most relevant here. Gatto writes:
“The fifth lesson I teach is intellectual dependency. Good students wait for a teacher to tell them what to do. This is the most important lesson of them all: we must wait for other people, better trained than ourselves, to make the meanings of our lives… We’ve built a way of life that depends on people doing what they are told because they don’t know how to tell themselves what to do.”
“The sixth lesson I teach is provisional self-esteem… The lesson of report cards, grades, and tests is that children should not trust themselves or their parents, but should instead rely on the evaluation of certified officials. People need to be told what they are worth.”
Both of these messages come through loud and clear in that last line. Casey, the main character, cannot discover her own calling, rather she needs to wait for someone else to tell her what that is OR just spend her whole life searching. Her self-esteem should come from all of those A+s on the physics exams; those evaluations should be what give her confidence from the outside, not her inherent worth on the inside.
The message we should be sending kids is essentially the opposite. We want to build intellectual independency that fosters critical thinking and problem solving and inherent self-esteem that brings an understanding of their meaning and the confidence that follows. Kids are brighter and more inquisitive than they are given credit for. As parents or teachers, we can play a critical role to observe their strengths, encourage their passions, and build resiliency.
Later in the chapter Gatto writes, “...if we regained a hold on a philosophy that locates meaning where meaning is genuinely to be found - in families, in friends, in the passage of seasons, in nature, in simple ceremonies and rituals, in curiosity, generosity, compassion and service to others, in a decent independence and privacy, in the free and inexpensive things out of which real families, real friends, and real communities are built - then we would be so self-sufficient we would not even need the material “sufficiency” which our global “experts” are so insistent we be concerned about.”
These messages are prominent, not just in these figure skating movies, but in all kinds of media and popular narratives: experts tell us what we can and should be focused on to be productive, to have value in society. This is why it can be hard to find time for the things that help us make meaning of our lives. They feel muddled within the already packed to-do list and difficult to pursue, or so minor they’re actually not worth pursuing. So how do we really find our calling?
In moments like those spent ice skating alone; moments of reflection, of flow, where we start to see the value we have in the lives of our friends, our family, and our community, where we reconnect with our inner child and imagine alternatives. These moments don’t often magically present themselves, we need to find time for them, and have faith they will bear fruit in time.
Ice skating is a spot where - with a solid playlist - I can get lost in thought or think about absolutely nothing and enjoy myself either way. These solo adventures have been moments of reflection, growth, and sometimes just being. I hope this gives you courage to pursue your own moments of ice skating alone.
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