April 28, 2006
hustle up
For two years after college, I taught in a girls’ boarding school. I lived in a dorm, taught five classes a day, and coached three sports (tennis, soccer, and badminton–and yes, badminton really IS a sport, and no, I don’t know anything about it except that my tennis skills did NOT translate and I sucked at it). I like to think that I was a kind and approachable teacher, that I was understanding and sympathetic, but really, those girls drove me batty with their whining and their excuses and their why-can’t-I-have-ONE-more extension?
My pedagogy could be described in three words: SUCK. IT. UP.
I was 22, and I believed that if you didn’t pay attention in class you deserved to fail the test and if you didn’t pay attention at practice you deserved to run wind sprints. I’m 38 now, and I still believe those things although until recently I had forgotten just how much.
I’m helping to coach Henry’s pee wee soccer team this year. I agreed not because I have any great confidence in my coaching skills but because watching Henry play soccer last year nearly gave me a stroke, what with all the not paying attention and hugging the other players and doing pretend karate on the field. If I coached, I figured, I could AT LEAST keep my kid in line.
For the most part, this soccer season has been a terrific experience. The other coach and I are good friends, primarily because we share the same sense of humor and buck-up approach to parenting. The kids themselves are very sweet and funny and nice to each other, and the parents are a great group. Our kids have learned a lot about teamwork and good sportsmanship, and have even picked up some soccer skills along the way.
But. But! I’m about to start telling people to suck it up and run some sprints, which maybe isn’t a good coaching approach with five-year-olds.
The club where we’re playing in is a feeder for a competitive league, and even in the under-six division, you can see who the really good kids and teams are. Wade has been fascinated by the team that practices next to us on Thursday nights; it is coached by four dads, who yell at the kids and make them run and say things like, “That was pathetic! PATHETIC!” Our practices, on the other hand, are very encouraging! and positive! and enthusiastic! Because our team is coached by moms, see.
But even moms have their breaking point.
We’ve been working on specific skills–dribbling, shooting, tackling, trapping–and the kids have mastered those (okay, sort of–our standards are pretty low here). This week we decided we would take on goal kicks and throw-ins, since we have about 400 of each in every game and it takes a good three minutes to set our kids up EVERY SINGLE TIME. So we planned two drills, split the kids into two groups of three, and went to work.
It was hellish.
Half of the kids were engaging with the drills, challenging themselves to throw and kick farther and stronger. Half of the team was running and listening and asking questions. Half of the team was learning something. The other half of the team was lying down in the grass, hold hands, asking me what I ate for lunch, telling me where they are going on vacation this summer, practicing ballet and cheerleading and karate (guess who!) and generally NOT PAYING ATTENTION. And when they were paying attention, they were saying things like, “This is boring!” and “I already KNOW how to do this!” and “I don’t really like it when the ball touches me.”
I REALLY wanted to make that half of the team run some sprints.
I like that we’re the nice coaches, that we’re the mom coaches; I like that our kids are having fun and enjoying soccer. I like that we have tried to be fair about playing time and who gets to do throw-ins and goal kicks. But the truth is that the kids who pay attention in practice have improved more than the kids who don’t and they are the kids who play the best in the games. The kids who don’t pay attention–in practice, in the games–are, ironically, the ones who complain the most when they don’t get to play or when the other team scores a goal. And now we’re having to decide if, for these last two games, we will reward the kids who have worked really hard with more playing time or just press on with the fairness policy.
In the end, I wish I had some way to make them understand that if they would just PAY ATTENTION for FIVE MINUTES and learn where to stand during a goal kick, they would have even MORE fun. Or I wish that they were ten years older and I could tell them to suck it up and start running.
Posted by Susan @ 3:24 pm • Uncategorized
RSS feed for comments on this post.
TrackBack URI
April 28th, 2006 at 4:28 pm, Busy Mom Says:
Sing it, sister! We still have this going on with 11 year olds if they actually show up for practice.
April 28th, 2006 at 7:11 pm, L. Says:
I was so busy this week with my older son`s baseball (and boy, do they SUCK) to wish you a happy birthday!
April 28th, 2006 at 7:41 pm, Mary P. Says:
Well, define “fair”. Is it fair that those who tried really hard be treated exactly the same way as those who didn’t? Is it fair that those who put in little effort reap the rewards of the other childrens’ efforts? We have this odd notion that “equal” is “fair” - and it isn’t.
So…what to do, because these little guys are just little guys, after all. They’re just learning how to apply, how to focus, what practice is. What you want to encourage is the right attitude.
So make part of your coaching directly focussed on teaching/rewarding them for the right attitude to practice and drills. (I’m brainstorming in my own head, making this up as I go along, you understand.)
How about if… um… if… each team member starts with a certain number of tokens (bingo chips, say) at the beginning of a practice. Every time they complain about a direction, one chip is taken away. Every time they say, “Okay!”, or “I can do that!” or, “I’ll try that!” when given a direction, they get another one.
You’d need to spend one practice explaining the system. Outline it first, and then identify the behaviours you’re interested in. When a kid comes out with a whine, you’d tell them - “Uh-oh! Next practice, that’ll cost you a token! What could you say instead?”, and “Way to go! That would have earned you a token! Good job!”
At the end of the practice, everyone who has “x” number of chips gets a prize, or some other motivator. (The first practice, the bar will be low. You gradually raise the number of tokens required to get the reward.) As to the motivator? You know that kids better than me. Maybe they’d all like to sing karaoke for 15 minutes…
Bingo chips probably wouldn’t work, because they’re playing soccer here. I can’t think of a tangible marker off the top of my head right now. A white board with all their names and a row of increasing/decreasing check marks?
Phew, that was long. That’s enough of my rambling. If there’s anything useful in there, let me know.
(And those dad coaches across the field? They’re PATHETIC!)
April 29th, 2006 at 7:00 am, Caloden Says:
Being a soccer mom, either on the field or the sidelines, has been one of the biggest challenges of my mothering adventure. Our son is now in the U14 competitive league and it insane and our daughter is a vicious one on the field. I tried coaching when my daughter played 4 on 4 in the U6 league. It was so frustrating I that I wanted to carry a waterbottle full of tequila to get through the practices.
Good luck with it!
April 29th, 2006 at 10:25 am, Suburban Turmoil Says:
My husband has coached a team from the time they were 10- right now, they’re 13. And my stepdaughters have been playing since they were three.
The good news is, they start to ay attention by the time they’re about 10. The bad news is, they stop paying attention again once they hit puberty.
It’s a losing battle, pretty much…
April 29th, 2006 at 6:49 pm, The June Cleaver Diaries Says:
I was an advisor for a group at the university here— believe me, it doesn’t get much better with age, because those were the most excuse-laden, whiny girls I have ever met in my life. I was the queen of excuses at that age, and it annoys the hell out if me that those girls thought they were being original and believable.
Suck it up now, little girls, before college. I beg of you.
April 30th, 2006 at 12:51 pm, Andie D. Says:
I know that my son is going to be one of the ones practicing his karate while on the field. One of my fears is that he’ll get a coach who’d rather berate him than motivate him.
Why do kid’s sports have to be so damn competitive?
That said, I do think that the players who are motivated and actually trying should get more playing time. Make sure to let everyone know during the next practice. It might motivate.
April 30th, 2006 at 1:38 pm, Misfit Hausfrau Says:
Here’s hoping my kids are band geeks!!!
May 1st, 2006 at 9:05 am, Laura Says:
You know, I believe this approach works with Girl Scouts too. I am a ruthless Girl Scout leader. This is why I took a year off from leading… the pressure was too much. Hee.
May 2nd, 2006 at 1:38 pm, Kathy C Says:
I’m so there with Laura and girlscouts. If they could just have paid attention. For. One. Second.
If you only reward the ones who paid attention you will likely have a war on your hands from the parents.
This is why I don’t coach. Instead I yell at my own kids as they ride their horses. Guess what? They still don’t listen.