has finally concluded!
The kids already ask, "Do we get new routines?"
Is it wrong that I want to take the next month (or two, or three) and go backpack through South America?
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Friday, June 10, 2011
Floor Music Friday, straight out of our Italian restaurant
And we're back, folks, with Floor Music Friday!
And there was much rejoicing.
Anywho: this week's pick for potential floor music goes out to the Piano Man.
There is the wistful, classic opening (1:02 - 1:43).
The playful and whimsical center (2:24 - 3:03 -- after 2:48, the vocals cut out).
This rocking part (4:29 - 4:52).
And the conclusion, grander and yet more wistful than before (5:55 - 6:27; 6:49 to the end).
Heck, I may try to cut this one myself.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
The art of the chuck
For anyone out there who has done junior high or high school gymnastics, you know where I'm coming from.
How did I learn a front tuck off of beam? A mom who was a volunteer coach for our middle school team stood next to the beam one practice, and we all tried it. No drills. A nice, battered four-inch mat covering the gym floor served as our landing area.
But I can't just have my kids chuck it. Right?
Ankles. Knees. More ankles. Hyperextension. I can see it all.
A few of the Bronze kids competed roundoffs and front handsprings off of beam as their dismounts this season. I'd like to teach them a real (read: salto or aerial) dismount. However, two of them already have a history of ankle injuries and one has patellar tendonitis. So I will need to proceed with caution with the fragile ones.
Which leads me to an interesting juncture: coming up with progressions for a skill that I learned in one fell swoop. Breaking down something that I can do intuitively but now need to explain. Much like teaching grammar, though hopefully more fun.
How did I learn a front tuck off of beam? A mom who was a volunteer coach for our middle school team stood next to the beam one practice, and we all tried it. No drills. A nice, battered four-inch mat covering the gym floor served as our landing area.
But I can't just have my kids chuck it. Right?
Ankles. Knees. More ankles. Hyperextension. I can see it all.
A few of the Bronze kids competed roundoffs and front handsprings off of beam as their dismounts this season. I'd like to teach them a real (read: salto or aerial) dismount. However, two of them already have a history of ankle injuries and one has patellar tendonitis. So I will need to proceed with caution with the fragile ones.
Which leads me to an interesting juncture: coming up with progressions for a skill that I learned in one fell swoop. Breaking down something that I can do intuitively but now need to explain. Much like teaching grammar, though hopefully more fun.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
The other life
In keeping with the discussion of "real coaches":
The main reason I write this blog is because I enjoy coaching: the stories, the subsequent struggles, and the victories (when they happen). Why do I coach? Because I enjoy it. And that comes from seeing the kids enjoy themselves.
I believe that kids can, and should, have fun in competitive sports. Sports serve as a beautiful metaphor for many aspects of life. But your daughter's Level 4 gymnastics meet is not the culmination of her (or your) life.
I love seeing my girls win. I'm proud, they're proud, parents are happy. It's good for business and morale. But I wouldn't look forward to work at the gym if the girls were robots who focused only on gymnastics. I'm glad that they have personalities and way too much to talk about. If I remain their coach, I'm confident that they won't walk away from gymnastics emotionally traumatized.
So what about me? What are my goals? Whatever I do in my real life, I'd like to continue coaching. I'd like to learn more and teach more difficult skills. But for me, as with the kids, I need the outside life. Other dreams. Other places.
The main reason I write this blog is because I enjoy coaching: the stories, the subsequent struggles, and the victories (when they happen). Why do I coach? Because I enjoy it. And that comes from seeing the kids enjoy themselves.
I believe that kids can, and should, have fun in competitive sports. Sports serve as a beautiful metaphor for many aspects of life. But your daughter's Level 4 gymnastics meet is not the culmination of her (or your) life.
I love seeing my girls win. I'm proud, they're proud, parents are happy. It's good for business and morale. But I wouldn't look forward to work at the gym if the girls were robots who focused only on gymnastics. I'm glad that they have personalities and way too much to talk about. If I remain their coach, I'm confident that they won't walk away from gymnastics emotionally traumatized.
So what about me? What are my goals? Whatever I do in my real life, I'd like to continue coaching. I'd like to learn more and teach more difficult skills. But for me, as with the kids, I need the outside life. Other dreams. Other places.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Too good to not repost
From Adie:
"I overheard one team's coach reminding the girls that they get 20$ for every first place finish... Whaaaaaaa!?!"
?!
It's like kids who get major money when they lose a tooth. What happened to the thrill of one dollar under your pillow? What happened to the awesomeness of standing on first place with your gold medal? Since when does a coach need to bribe a kid to WIN?
Besides, is that even legal? Someone call the NCAA.
"I overheard one team's coach reminding the girls that they get 20$ for every first place finish... Whaaaaaaa!?!"
?!
It's like kids who get major money when they lose a tooth. What happened to the thrill of one dollar under your pillow? What happened to the awesomeness of standing on first place with your gold medal? Since when does a coach need to bribe a kid to WIN?
Besides, is that even legal? Someone call the NCAA.
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