Growing up I did not play sports. My 2nd grade foray into track and cross-country ended with the coach suggesting to my parents that perhaps I was rather small for running fast. I have since learned that some of the fastest people are some of the smallest, but that is another blog post.
So when I first watched Coach B holler at my baby, my mother bird feathers were rather ruffled. I wanted to chirp loudly: This is a recreational team, Coach! The kids are here to have fun, not get yelled at!
But as I watched and listened, I saw what Coach B was really doing. He was not yelling at the kids, he was yelling to them. He was not disheartening them, he was setting a high standard and expecting them to reach it. Refusing to allow the older kids to slack off in the presence of the younger, he came alongside the younger children with teaching and encouragement.
You can guess the result: a very diverse group of kids became a soccer team. With grins on their faces as they closed out the practice with a sprinting race against Coach B (who happens to stand over 6 feet tall with the long litheness of a runner), they finished strong and happy.
Of course, looking back this all makes complete sense. Children and adults alike rise to high and attainable standards. Expectations coupled with discipline and teaching bring the best out of us.
On the way home from practice Boy 2 could not stop talking about Coach B. Thrilled with the challenge he was facing on the field, he explained that when Coach B wins the sprint, Coach will add 30 seconds to the next week's sprint. Boy 2, his 4'4" frame holding the heart of a giant, proclaimed, "I will beat Coach B before the end of the season."
I hear you, Christine. I often watch for Greg's feathers to ruffle because he's a tougher bird, and spent many more years of his young life on a field with coaches yelling to - and I love the way you put that - him.
ReplyDeleteYou are so very wise, friend.