You guys,
My high school basketball coach had just sent us to the baseline.
Ugh, sprints.
But first, a lecture. She was mad at us and wanted us to know it.
I believed in my coach. I did everything she asked of me. I worked as hard as I could. I wanted her approval more than anything. So as I stood on the line listening to her, agreeing with her, disappointed in all of us, I was shocked when she called me out.
Apparently, the face I was making didn’t match the thoughts in my head. She thought I was giving her an attitude. I was too stunned to respond thoughtfully.
And instead of making everybody run, she sent me to the side to run sprints by myself.
I ran the sprints. Running kept me from crying. Or hyperventilating. But when I finally crossed the line I couldn’t hold back my emotions any longer. I cried against the wall. It was brief. But it was a moment I’ll never forget.
I stormed out of practice that day. I was mad at myself for breaking down. Furious that my coach saw it.
From then on, I wasn’t trying to win Coach’s approval. I was trying to prove her wrong.
I used to look back at this as the moment I became mentally tough. I wanted to prove the entire world wrong. I didn’t feel like anyone had my back. If I wanted something I had to push myself to a breaking point to achieve it.
But now I realize this moment just gave me a chip on my shoulder. I lacked emotional intelligence and didn’t know how to communicate my feelings. Whenever I felt unseen or misunderstood, I pushed those feelings aside and replaced them with motivation and anger.
For years after, I thought negative reinforcement pushed me to be my best. But I don’t even know what it would have felt like to be encouraged, supported, and nurtured.
Maybe instead of trying to prove my worth I would have believed in myself. Maybe I would have been a much better basketball player. Maybe I wouldn’t have felt overwhelming depression during the time between the end of the school day and the start of practice.
I think of these things when I think about mentoring students for the upcoming Write of Passage cohort. I don’t know any of them. I don’t know their writing backgrounds. They will all be at different points of their writing journeys. It’s not my job to push them and be hard on them. It’s my job to encourage, support, and nurture.
I don’t want my students to feel like they have to prove something. I want them to feel confident and happy when they sit down at the computer to write.
Basketball was my favorite sport until my high school coach sucked all the joy out of it.
I never want to suck the joy out of writing.
Essay of the Week
My sister gave birth to her first baby yesterday. I couldn’t help but observe how differently we approached birth and parenthood. It’s yet another reminder of how different we are from each other.
It got me thinking about our upbringing and the labels we were given early on. Alexis was smart. I was not.
I’ve been telling myself a story about the word “smart” for years, and it’s a story I don’t want to pass on to my son.
Karate Kid
We’re halfway through this season of The Bachelor and I still haven’t really gotten to know Matt James.
Last night was my first glimpse. During a group date, Serena P. (there are two Serenas) told him she heard he did karate.
What Matt did next was a dating pro-tip for sure.
Matt asked if she wanted him to show her. Serena stood and held a pillow above her head. He was going to kick it. He took it very seriously. He took his time. He built up to the moment.
And then, finally, the ridiculous kick.
These are the quirks I’m here for, Matt.
Emphasize those quirks. Find your match.
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Until next week,
Charlie