The kick-off session on February 9 gathered dozens of representatives from the system's board, administration, faculty, students, and support staff, plus more from the PTO and from booster groups for sports and the arts. Added to the mix were a half dozen interested community members, and among them, me.

I was pulled in, I think, because of my previous life. Before finding my true calling as a sheep raiser and column writer, for a very long time I was in education. I was one of those kids who started school at six, liked it, and just never left. In fact, as student, teacher, and administrator, I hung around schools for just short of forty years. So that Cooperstown gathering of earnest, energetic people felt familiar, as did the projected planning process. But I was a bit uneasy, too.

The uneasiness came from the facilitator's urging us to seek ways to make Cooperstown schools, not only great, but "a world-class system." That last phrase raised my neck hairs. It hinted at sloganeering, at using words more for drama than really to denote. That kind of usage can bring fuzzy thinking, and eventual trouble for any project.

I immediately thought of a colleague back at Anne Arundel Community College, a man prone to confuse slogans with reality. The dean of students, he sought to pump up college esteem by putting lots of money into big banners that got hung from lampposts all over our campus. They read, "AACC PRIDE!"

At the next faculty meeting, an English professor blew him out of the water. With feigned innocence, he asked when the other sets of banners would arrive. When the dean responded with a blank look, the prof said, "Why, surely there are six more to come. There's GREED, after all, plus ANGER, ENVY, SLOTH, and GLUTTONY. And let's not forget LUST!"

Pride, the first of the Seven Deadly Sins? Not quite what the dean had in mind.

Thinking that poor man's shortsightedness, I foolishly raised a hand to point out that "great" and world-class" can't be used as synonyms, since they can mean different things. The facilitator looked intrigued. "Please explain," he said; and, still leading with my chin, I pressed on. I said that "world-class" is an adjective borrowed from the sports world; Winter Olympics commentators can't let go of the term.

But saying our school system should be "world-class," though dramatic, infers that we're striving to be at the top of some category of things-presumably, school systems. It suggests competition on a horizontal plane, competition against peers. Striving to be great, though, is different. It ought to mean competing on a vertical plane, and against oneself. Maybe the Army says it best: Take control of yourself. "Be all that you can be."

Well, the facilitator seemed to love that. "That's an important distinction!" he said happily. "OK, let's set aside 'world-class.'" And, glancing at my name tag, "Jim, how about running a study group to pin down the term 'greatness!'"

Uh oh. I'd been had, but it served me right.

But the study group is fine. There's Keith Additon from the school administration; Tony Scalici from the board; Patrick McBreary, a bright, good-humored citizen at large; Eric Carr, a soft-spoken counselor; and finally Steve Guarneri, the kind of idealistic, funny, quick, enthusiastic student that gives one hope for the future. I think we might all have some fun together.

What the bunch of us have to do is to figure a way to make the vertical climb from "good" to "great"; from what we are to the great institution we ought to be in 2010-only four years away! That's daunting. But, come to think of it, I have a set of tools that will help.

The tools are almost 2,500 years old, but they're as sharp and effective as ever. I mean Aristotle's technique for grasping and evaluating anything that's complicated. (And, Lord knows, we're dealing with a complexity!)

When our committee meets, I'm going to offer them the use of Aristotle's tool box. If they want to open the lid, right on top they'll find the tool of tools-the key, in fact, to all kinds of comprehension. Its name is the most important four-letter word in English. I think the guys will love it.

I'm going to tell you about it, too. Next week.

Jim Atwell lives in and views life from Fly Creek. He can be found on the web at JimAtwell.com.