THE “ELIZA PROBLEM” 
                    
                         Around the time of the birth of Christ, the Roman 
                    poet, Ovid, wrote a story – several in fact.  He called his 
                    work The Tenth Book of Metamorphosis.  Something 
                    happened in his later years that caused Ovid to be banished 
                    from Rome, and he spent the last ten years of his life in 
                    exile and in sadness.  Ovid’s only consolation was that he 
                    predicted his stories would be remembered beyond his life, 
                    and read wherever the Roman name was known.  He was right.  
                    Over 2,000 years later, his work remains – and I’m glad it 
                    does.  He has helped me greatly in life…and helped my horses 
                    as well.
                         In one tale, Ovid tells of a sculptor named Pygmalion 
                    who carved a statue of a woman. Pygmalion did such a good 
                    job, he fell in love with his creation.  Venus came along 
                    and took pity on the poor fellow, and changed the statue 
                    into a living thing.  Galetea, as she was known, came into 
                    being and the tale unwinds the moral and message of this 
                    powerful work - that something wonderful can come from a 
                    thing that appears at first glance to have no value.  What a 
                    lesson for us all.
                         In 1912, the Irish playwright, George Bernard Shaw, 
                    popularized the notion of Ovid’s tale with his play called
                    Pygmalion.  In this modernized version, Professor 
                    Henry Higgins, reaches down into the soul of the young 
                    urchin girl, Eliza Dolittle, and helps her become more than 
                    she ever dreamed.  Shaw pinpoints the center of the target 
                    regarding how we help those assigned to our care with his 
                    memorable adaptation.  We can in fact, assist others in 
                    finding and achieving a new and better path of living.  Do 
                    you know a parent, teacher, or horseman who doesn’t want to 
                    learn how to do exactly that? 
                         
                    At a recent educational conference, a teacher asked a 
                    profound and important question about the process of 
                    “helping.”
                         “Is it possible that we are doing a disservice to the 
                    child?” she asked.
                         “How do you mean?” I answered.
                          And the teacher replied, “Well, while I feel compelled 
                    to help the child become all they can be, I sense some real 
                    hesitation on the part of the student at times.  Some 
                    complain that if they begin to do well, they may lose old 
                    friends.  Some say if they make good grades, they are looked 
                    down on by their former social group.  And then, there’s 
                    another problem.  As a teacher, I must help the person 
                    “become.”  That’s what I’m for.  But after I have helped 
                    this person perform at a higher level, it is very unlikely 
                    the “achievers” or “successful” students will accept this 
                    newcomer into their social circle.  This is exactly what 
                    happened to Eliza in the play.  Her old friends thought she 
                    had become “snooty” and was putting on airs.  And the more 
                    elite social group laughed at Eliza because they saw her as 
                    a Cockney girl with no breeding.  Poor Eliza – after all her 
                    hard work – is now left alone.”
                         She paused a moment, and continued, “My work is to help 
                    children, but am I unintentionally doing them a disservice 
                    by causing them to lose acceptance in both groups?  As 
                    helpers, should we be concerned with what we might call “The 
                    Eliza problem?”  
                         What a good question. 
                         
                    Over the past few weeks, that question has grown in my mind 
                    and consumed a good portion of my thinking.  Philosophers 
                    have said, “The trick is to fall in love with the 
                    question.”  I have fallen in love with that one, and here is 
                    my answer…
                         We should be concerned with the Eliza problem, but not 
                    for the reasons we might think initially.  We should be 
                    concerned because the Eliza problem – being rejected by 
                    those closest to us when we strive to do better – not only 
                    happens to young students, but to every single one of us as 
                    well.  Was there ever a time in your life when you made a 
                    decision to do better, become more, or try a new thing, and 
                    you were criticized for it?  For most of us, I’m 
                    betting there was just such a time.  It happens to our 
                    children as well.  That’s why we should be concerned with 
                    the Eliza problem.
                         If the young roper commits to rope the dummy one 
                    hundred times a day for a year, it’s a dead lock cinch he or 
                    she will rope better at the end of the year.  It’s also a 
                    cinch they will be required to find new partners.  If the 
                    golf prodigy commits to hit 300 balls a day for months, you 
                    can bet one of his peers will say something like, “I thought 
                    we were doing this for fun.  Why are you playing with the 
                    better players instead of our old group?”  And naturally, 
                    this will happen in the classroom.  Should any student make 
                    a concerted effort to improve his or her grades, the old C, 
                    D, and F crowd will discourage such an act.  “Why are you 
                    kissin’ up to the teacher all of a sudden?”  And you can bet 
                    if you try to improve your horsemanship skills, the biggest 
                    “cowboy” in the group is going to laugh at you, and claim 
                    your “getting’ all fancy on us.”  
                         Not the real horseman of course.  Not the real friend, 
                    not the good coach or real mentor.  They will never say 
                    discouraging things when you are attempting to do more, 
                    become better, or trying to do a new thing.  The true 
                    helpers will be right there with you - encouraging you and 
                    telling you that you can.  Surround yourself with those 
                    positive souls. What should we 
                    do about the Eliza problem?  My little Momma had the 
                    answer.  
                         “There are two kinds of people in the world,” she 
                    said.  “Anchors on your tails, and wind in your sails.  
                    Cut the anchors loose!   If anyone is ever unhappy about 
                    your good efforts or jealous of your success, treat them 
                    with the kindness of Jesus…and get away from them!” 
                    
                          Over 2,000 years ago, Ovid predicted he would be read 
                    wherever the Roman name was known – and he was right.  His 
                    words have floated across the centuries and found their way 
                    to a horse farm in Oklahoma.  Because of the poet’s call for 
                    us to become more, Shine is better and so am I.  Ovid also 
                    advised the journey takes courage.  Reminds me of an old 
                    quote I always loved… 
                    
                                     Courage does not always roar.  
                    Sometimes, it’s a quiet voice at the end of the day, saying, 
                    “I will try again tomorrow.”  
                    
                    
                    
                    
                    
                    
                    
                     
 
 Michael's latest 
                    release, Reflections Of A Cowboy, is currently available in 
                    audio book form. The two volume set consists of articles, 
                    essays and excerpts from radio performances about good 
                    people and good horses in the life of an Oklahoma cowboy. 
                    Approximately 8 hours in length. Reflections Of A Cowboy in 
                    printed form is scheduled for release in the summer of 2005.