So, I need to write. I need to write more often to help my students. Hmm. I am not sure I have a really strong voice. Yet. Carol whats-her-name, oh, Dweck says I should luxuriate in the power of yet, but it still kind of feels like stretching myself too thin.
Random moment from my life yesterday went like this:
My daughter walked toward me off of the basketball court. There was a moment she tried not to cry. It didn’t hold long, so the tears fell down her bright pink face. Pink from crying, pink from exerting all her muscular systems for a full hour. She ran the court, jumped into defensive positions, blocked shots, got rebounds, stole the ball — all for an hour. The exhaustion got to her, and she broke down after holding up.
I was there to hug her. I was her coach, yet I needed her in that moment just as much as she needed me, so we embraced as the other team huddled and cheered and got ready to shake our hands. We let all of that happen while we felt the tough side of grit in a tight embrace.
How many moments had I questioned my decision to coach her team? I was too busy, my cancer-fighting teenage son needed me, I was stale in my coaching skills, I needed to grade papers — the list could go on. But in that moment, I got to be there. . . and not just as a spectator. I got to experience it with her. I would not have given that up for a thousand papers graded.Me, back in the day playing ball:)
We lost in sudden-death overtime. Overtime would have been for the weak. We maximized the losing experience with sudden death. Funny thing about sudden death: we didn’t actually die — we lived life fully — together.