The Gnome in My Office - The Gnome Baseball League

Robert A. Cohen

East Stroudsburg University

February 2008 (updated September 2009)

I have a little gnome in my office. Every now and then he appears among the boxes and papers that litter my office.

I don't usually talk to him, as it reflects poorly on my department if students see one of the professors talking to a little gnome rather than grading or doing other school-related stuff. One day, though, as I was struggling with a particularly perplexing problem, the gnome came out from a particularly tall stack of papers on my desk and looked at me.

"Why so sad?" he asked.

"I'm not sad," I responded. "I'm just having trouble figuring out how to deal with the latest mandate from the state."

"What seems to be the problem?"

I was in no mood to be counseled by a gnome. However, I figured I could use the break so I explained how the state now requires all teachers to have multiple certifications. At the same time, teacher education institutions are to prepare candidates with the same number of credits as before. I felt we were struggling to prepare candidates qualified in all of the skills that were required of them prior to the change. And now the state requires even more of the teachers? It didn't make sense.

"Why would they do that?" I asked.

"It makes perfect sense to me," he responded.

"It makes perfect sense to you?" I asked. "Do you deal with teacher education?"

"No, I can't say I know anything about teacher education," he admitted. "However, we had a similar problem within our gnome baseball league."

"You did?" I asked incredulously. "What does baseball have in common with teacher education?"

To my surprise, his story had eerie parallels to my teacher education problem.

"The gnome baseball league was okay as baseball leagues go," he started, "but money was always a problem. In order to stay afloat teams had to be efficient with how they used their players. For example, some players cost more money because they played positions that were hard to fill. So, teams tended to use players who were trained in other positions. Another cost-cutting measure was to keep the number of reserve players to a minimum. Teams recognized that reserve players are only needed when a starting player got injured or needed some rest. Rather than keeping a reserve player for each position, only one or two were kept, filling in for whatever position was being vacated, regardless of whether they were trained in that position or not.

"As you might guess, many players ended up playing positions they were not trained to play. As a consequence, the quality of the play left a lot to be desired and that bothered the league office. To ensure the health of the league, the quality of the teams had to be addressed. They mandated that from then on players would only be able to play the positions for which they were trained."

At this, I interrupted him. "What did they expect? Did they think teams were hiring untrained players on purpose? Obviously, there weren't enough trained players to go around."

"And, obviously your brain is too small," he countered. "A successful team needs a trained player at each position. You can't argue with that."

"I agree," I acknowledged, "but the teams simply don't have enough money to do it. If they are going to mandate something like that, the league office should provide the funds needed to increase the rosters, provide coaches and trainers for the players, and provide monetary incentives for the recruitment of new players, especially for positions that are hard to fill. Was any money provided to help teams do this, especially the teams that played poorly and thus were most in need for properly trained players?"

"No," he admitted, "but all was not lost. Each team decided to redefine what was meant by 'trained' so that they could meet the terms of the requirement, without really changing who was playing. They decided, for example, that anyone already playing a position was trained for that position, as a consequence of simply playing the position."

"That is pretty nifty," I admitted. "That seems to allow the current crop of players to continue playing, but what if someone needs to change positions? And what about new players that are needed as players retire?"

"That indeed was a problem," he continued. "So, while that tactic worked in the short run, in the long run it became increasingly apparent that a different solution was needed."

"Did they finally admit that more funding was needed?" I asked.

"Of course not," he answered. "A gnome doesn't give up that easily."

"Then what did they do?" I asked.

"The teams argued that they could meet the requirement if each player was trained in every position. So, the league mandated that only those trained in every position could play on a team."

"Sounds like the mandate I've just received about teachers," I admitted. "And I can now see why you think it makes sense. After all, schools are cutting costs by having their teachers do everything. If teachers held multiple certifications, they could do everything and be qualified to do it!"

"Now you are catching on," he pointed out.

"But it can't be done, can it?" I asked in doubt.

"Sure," he asserted. "You need to think like a gnome. It turns out there are two ways to do it. One way is to require all of the players to spend so much time in the minor leagues that they end up being really good at each position."

"Did it work?" I asked.

"Sure it worked," he answered. "Whether it worked successfully or not is another matter. Those who went through the long process were in high demand but since it took so long for a gnome to complete the training, few players were able to complete it. And, few gnomes even started the process, seeing how it would be better and more productive to go into another field. Pay for gnomes playing baseball was not good, I might add. Thus, that way led to additional shortages, especially at prime positions, which just exacerbated the entire situation."

"That must be why," I recognized, "the state has told us we cannot add any more credits to the program we already have."

"Yes," he agreed, "simply adding more credits to a program will never provide enough trained players to staff an entire team."

"What about the second way you mentioned?" I asked.

"The other way is to decrease the time spent on learning any single position. That way, players can make it out of the minor leagues in a timely fashion."

"Did that work?" I asked.

"Yes. However, players who completed that type of training ended up not being all that good at any particular position. Teams with those players, of course, performed even worse than they did before the mandate. Still, the requirement was met and everyone was happy."

"Wait a second," I interrupted. "What do you mean, 'everyone was happy'? How does this solve the problem? Yes, the requirement was met but didn't the game suffer as a result? It seems you are worse off than you were before."

He looked at me and yawned. "I didn't say the problem was solved. All I said was that everyone was happy with the solution. And that the mandate you received makes sense. At least from a gnome's point of view." And with that, he disappeared back into the clutter that makes up my office.

In the silence that followed, I thought to myself about the gnome baseball league. Only gnomes would waste so much time on something that, in the end, doesn't improve anything.

I'm glad my world isn't run by gnomes.