Vacuosity

No batter

When I was young, I wasn't good at any sport. I wasn't chosen last for teams, but I was a long way from being chosen first. My father never had the time to teach us any sports fundamentals; I don't think he knew any either. My big brother James was as inept as I when it came to technique. So there I was, helpless, hopeless.

The only equipment I had at all was a Nerf soccer ball that I bought with my own money when I was about eight. I didn't even learn to skate until I was in my teens, and I didn't make the cut on my junior high school baseball team. The only skills I have now are ones I taught myself or learned from friends in my adolescent and adult life.

I always swore that if I had a child, especially a boy, that I would be sure to teach him how to play sports. He didn't have to be the best; just have the fundamentals so he could hold his own and feel good about his game. Well I have that boy, so how did I do?

Yesterday, Jordan got his report card (first term, grade one). He did very well; he's working at or above his grade level in almost everything. One a scale of 1-4 he got about half 3's and half 4's (4 means working above his grade level), that is, except for gym. His gym mark was a 1. A one? What do you have to be doing wrong to get a one in grade one gym? I thought you just had to show up and you'd pass. One is the lowest possible mark he could get. Does he run into walls? Can he not jump at all? Does he hit himself with the equipment? How can you fail grade one gym?

Really, it's me who is failing. Two years ago I wanted to teach Jordan to skate. That was an abysmal flop. He cried to be let go to sit down while I towed him around the rink. Last year I think we went one time; that escapade lasted about ten minutes until he fell and cut his lip on his front tooth.

I've been so wrapped up in stuff, meaningless stuff, that I have hardly ever taken him out to play. It's hard, though, because Jordan doesn't like to try things, and gives up at the first sign of difficulty. I have to keep pushing him. But that just becomes a struggle of wills. I was so hard on him to learn to ride his bike that he hated it; he never wanted to ride it. It made me wonder who I was really doing it for. It was the same with the piano lessons. I had always wanted them and to this day still wish I could play.

So I laid off, stopped trying to fix my own childhood vicariously. But, obviously I've gone too far the other way in letting him set his own pace for learning physical skills. Jord's all brain and no body.

So, now I become the coach, complete with whistle and clipboard. Okay, not really, but I do have a meeting with his gym teacher tomorrow to see what I can do to help the boy out; maybe work on basic motor skills, run some drills, something. I can't let him fail gym.

I'm also building an ice rink in our huge yard as soon as the weather stays consistently below freezing. We're in Winterpeg and it's our duty to accept hockey into our lives. I've got to get to Canadian tire; there's a sale on pint-sized equipment.

After all, he's only just turned six; there's still hope.

posted by David @ 7:35 p.m.