“If only they’d listen”—but of course
If you attend youth sporting events, you’ll see a familiar sight: A red-faced parent or coach shaking his head, frustrated, after a child competitor fell short. “She knows all the [insert things that one can know about sports],” the befuddled adult says. “But if only she’d listen!”
For some reason we adults often overlook the real challenge of successful coaching (or parenting or spousing or any kind of communication-based human interaction). With our cones and whistles and drills, we think we do the hard part, but showing kids the skills of a sport is a snap. The difficult parts are 1) getting them to listen and 2) motivating them to turn your words into their actions.
So many parents whip themselves up into fury because they think their child’s only drawback — the only thing, in some cases, keeping nine-year-old Chris from a direct path to a juicy division I scholarship — is this listening thing. They see the amazing running, leaping, spinning, and shooting. But the child just won’t listen!
Great coaches, teachers, motivators build an ethos around themselves. (This is why it can be so difficult to coach your own kids; at some point, because they are around you all the time and see how, despite your pleadings, you too can never remember to put the milk back in the fridge, they come to believe they know a lot more than you about pretty much everything.)
You can find many ways to build this ethos and overcome the fundamental impediments here. You can also find many ways to fail to develop this sense of character (incessantly screaming your head off seems to be one surefire way).
You also have to be careful about using overly creative strategies to overcome the challenges of listening and motivation.
For instance, as I have pointed out in this space, one of my kids has demonstrated that he cannot understand that he must put on his seat belt every time he gets into the car. I appreciate the advice I later received about this from some readers, most of which revolved around corporal punishment/”encouragement.” I concocted a clever plan to demonstrate dramatically the dangers of seat belt-less traveling, but luckily my wife talked me out of it:
Yet another ER visit. ER physician: “So, Mr. Warnock, your child has a broken arm. You know this could have easily been averted if he had his seat belt on.” “Yes,” I say excitedly. “That was part of my plan. I slammed on the brakes while his seat belt was off to demonstrate this very thing to him: Wearing your seat belt is good!.” Now concerned ER physician: “Umm, yes, Mr. Warnock….” Aside to nurse: “Please get me the number for DYFS.”
Adults need to check our expectations. The listening part isn’t this elusive thing that everyone else has nailed down. It’s the part none of us have ever completely figured out, and it’s bigger than kids’ sports. Generals, wardens, wiffle ball coaches, uncles, road crew supervisors, wives, leaders of mastodon hunts, and 11th-grade math teachers have all struggled with the transfer of idea to word to motivation to action. The clear communication of your idea to another member of our species may be the ultimate human challenge, the great puzzle.
So if you’re a youth coach, give yourself and your young charges a break. Recognize that getting them to listen will be one of your toughest challenges. Don’t assume that part.
What I’m saying might make sense to you. Perfect sense. But remember, the trick is in the listening. And, of course, you also have to believe I’m worth listening to. That is no doubt the real trick.
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You know, the very same theory holds true outside of the “coaching your own child” arena. My husband coaches my daughter’s soccer team and believe me, I see that frustration in his face when she decides that doing a cartwheel in the middle of the field is a good idea! However, I do not see the same frustration when it is another member of the team picking flowers or spinning in circles.
I teach my daughter’s religious education class and must admit to the very same frustration. Another child can be fidgeting or chatting and I calmly write it off. Morgan acts up and I instantly say something like, “Do you want to teach this class?” You are right … we are around our own children so much that I think they tune us, the parents out, and we do the same to the children.
Thank you for bringing this conversation to the surface and it reaffirms my thoughts…embarassing the child is not an effective coaching/teaching or parenting technique. Now it is time to practice what I am preaching.
I wish I had some amazingly insightful comment about this article. But alas, the message is so simple and to the point, that I can only say I agree completely…this time.
Otherwise, I need only to say thank you. Thank you for finally getting generals, wardens, wiffle ball coaches, uncles, road crew supervisors, wives, leaders of mastodon hunts, and 11th-grade math teachers all into the same sentence. We’ve waiting far to long for that exact cross section of humanity.
Can you refer a good wiffle ball coach for my son.
Thanks!
My I suggest one Dr. S. Warnock? He’s not much of a hitter, but he is good at telling people what to do and how to do it.