About a year and a half ago, I concluded an end of the year meeting with my basketball team and fellow coaches by announcing that, after four years as the junior varsity coach, I would not be returning in that capacity next year. The reaction was as I expected: Shocked looks, tears, and a little bit of anger and resentment, especially from the underclassmen. This was certainly not an easy decision; I absolutely loved coaching high school girls basketball and I loved all of my players dearly. The rationale behind this decision had three distinct parts-
- Family
- Professional development/educational advancement/job satisfaction
- Increased workload
The family reason is simple for most people to understand and, in my decision making process, played the largest role; I have a young daughter and other members of my family frequently call upon me for a wide variety of assistance. The professional development and educational advancement is also fairly straightforward; I am currently pursuing my masters degree and anyone who has engaged in a similar venture knows how much work this is. The third reason is a bit less clear for many people, mostly, I think, due to the fact that the majority of people don't have a full appreciation and understanding of what teachers do every single day.
Before I dive into further expansion of these points, especially the third one, I want to make it absolutely clear that this is not meant to be a rant on the state of education nor a list of complaints. Even though there are some things I don't necessarily like about my job, I continue to assert that I have the best job in the world! What follows is an attempt at a collection of observations and reflections. In a way, it is also a response to the many, many people who, to this day, continue to ask me the following three questions:
If you are a teacher in Wisconsin (or anywhere for that matter) you can appreciate (for better or worse) the variety of new initiatives and duties that seem to be constantly added to our job description. I like to think that I am a pretty good teacher. I do some things very well. I am also pretty bad at some things but I continue to strive to get better at all aspects of my teaching. This striving to improve through the development of skills and improvement of knowledge can be difficult when trying to fit it in between lesson planning, correcting assessments, writing and revising curriculum, attending meetings of all types, engaging students in lessons, interacting with students in a mentor role, writing letters of recommendation, writing a PDP, SLO, and PPG, and so many of the other things that every teacher does every single day. New initiatives, changing attitudes towards education, and the bipolarity of state and national lawmaking bodies continue to create distractions of greater and greater magnitude that unfairly divert the attention of teachers away from the thing that we love the most- actually teaching kids.
I don't know any good teacher who puts in their forty hours a week and then heads home; I would argue that good teachers spend far more time working outside of the actual "work day" than anyone in any other profession. Now, take this busy schedule and throw in coaching a high school sport. Many schools have either a contractual or unspoken expectation that teachers should coach an athletic team or advise a club. Coaching and advising are fantastic things that can have a tremendous positive impact on the life of a child but how can these duties fit into the current way of doing education? How can we expect someone to maintain high levels of performance while providing a positive experience for kids in the classroom and on the field of competition when doing both well would require them to put in 65+ hours of work in each week? I cannot adequately express the level of admiration I have for those teachers who are able to get the job done both in the classroom and on the field of athletic competition. I, unfortunately, am not one of those teachers. I once aspired to be an amazing father and husband, a rock star teacher, and a state caliber basketball coach. However, early in my high school coaching career and especially after my daughter was born, I began to recognize moments when all of these things started to succumb to mediocrity.
At first, the thing that suffered was my teaching. Late-night returns from distant away games meant less time to complete grading and prepare for the next day's lesson. Putting these things off meant a poorer educational experience the next day for my students. Doing this every once in a while sometimes turned into consecutive days. I was not okay with this. So, in order to try to make-up for it, I would get up super early (3am) or stay up super late (3am) to get ahead or, more often, catch-up. This well-intentioned plan, however, led to even more problems: Crankiness during the school day, tiredness during the school day, crankiness during practice, tiredness during practice, crankiness at home, and then pass out from exhaustion at 7pm after getting home from practice at 6pm. What started to happen was, in my attempt to be a great husband, teacher, and coach, I was starting to kind of suck in all three.
My daughter was born in the spring after my third season coaching JV girls basketball in my current district. For many months leading up to the start of the next season, my wife and I discussed my role in the basketball program, if any, would be best for our family. We reached the conclusion that it would be best for our family if I did not coach. Then, in what can only be described as the biggest violation of the trust and cooperative approach to decision making we had established in our ten years of being together, I unilaterally decided to continue coaching in the upcoming season, much to my wife's dismay. I thought "This won't be that bad" and "I know so many coaches who have done this! I'll be fine" and countless other attempts at rationalizing my decision. With hindsight, I now know that I was wrong...big time.
At the start of that season, my daughter was just over six months old. In Wisconsin, basketball season lasts from November to March. My previous solutions to "balancing" my obligations would prove to be even more detrimental this time around: Infants don't really care if it's two in the morning and you've been up since 6am. Without going through too many details, basically what was happening was this: During that season, I did not like the teacher I was becoming... tired, disconnected, with pretty awful pedagogy; I did not like the coach I was...enthusiastic and present but constantly distracted by the many school tasks and things at home that had to get done; I did not like the husband I was becoming...tired, tired, and constantly doing work at home instead of upholding my end of the partnership that is marriage; and I absolutely hated the father I had become...absent. There was one particular week that season where we had three road games and, due to the fantastic wonder that is winter in Wisconsin, all movement on the roads was severely slowed. That week I arrived at school by 6:30am every day. School was done by 3:30. On the three game days that week, the next step was get on the bus. By 5:30pm, we were at our destination. JV game at 6:00pm. Varsity followed, sometimes 7:30pm, but sometimes closer to 7:45pm. Varsity game done...9ish...maybe. Get on the bus. 10:00pm, maybe, get back to school. Wait for all the kids to drive off or get picked up. Head to classroom to stare at the pile of stuff that didn't get done. Get in car and drive home. 11pm, hopefully, arrive home. Kiss my sleeping daughter goodnight. Kiss my sleeping wife goodnight. Pass out. Get up at 5am. Try to get some work done, get ready for school, and then start it all over again.
That week, I saw my daughter, when she was awake, for less than three hours total...and I hated myself for it. I fell asleep hoping she would wake up in the middle of the night wanting to be fed or simply held just so I could interact with her, see her smile, or maybe even hear her use her newly discovered voice. Friends and colleagues told me before and after that week things like "Oh, she won't remember you being gone, she's so young" and other attempts at intellectualization. But, I remember I was gone that week and I remember the many other times I was gone that season when I didn't get to give her a bath, or read her a story, or tell her what I tell her every night before leaving her side, "Goodnight, I love you and I always will no matter what." I remember hearing second-hand all the developmental milestones she reached while I was at practice, at a game, or staying late after practice to catch up on school work.
I love coaching. I love teaching. I love my daughter. I love my wife. In my attempt to be everything for all four, I failed to fulfill even my lowest standard of what was acceptable in each case. So, I had to make a choice. But, calling it a choice is a bit of a misnomer. Not being the best husband I can be was never an option, not being the best father I can be was never an option, and not striving to best fulfill my vocation of being a teacher, taking classes to improve my skills and knowledge to better challenge, inspire, encourage, and support my students every day, this too, was never an option. So, I had to stop coaching.
Earlier in my life, for the sake of my mental and physical health, I had to make a difficult decision between two things I loved. One of my mentors, who was usually flippant, sarcastic, and cheeky when dispensing wisdom, spoke with me when I was in his office one time, bawling my eyes out, being torn apart inside by the weight of the decision that had to be made. He talked with me in such a caring and sincere manner that I had never experienced before nor since and in that calm, caring manner he told me this: "Sometimes in life, you have to choose between two things you love. If you choose the first, you will love it. If you choose the second, you will love it. Isn't that wonderful?"
My decision to stop coaching was not one I arrived at lightly and, although my players were disappointed, I like to think that someday they will fully appreciate my decision. With the added demands put on teachers today, I fear more and more talented and dedicated teachers will make the same decision I did. I say "I fear this," because great teachers make great coaches. They know how kids learn, they know how to motivate kids, and, I guess quite simply, they know kids. I am still involved in activities working with kids outside of the classroom through sports officiating, our booster club, service activities, middle school rewards activities, and more but these things are not the same as coaching a group of kids, interacting with them closely every day for two (or more) intense hours, seeing their crazy side (and sometimes showing yours) on long road trips filled with would-you-rather questions and other inane time fillers. But for the sake of my mental, emotional, and physical health, I had to make a choice between two things I loved.
I chose my family and my vocation over coaching and it is wonderful.
- Why did you stop coaching? Answer: Keep reading.
- Do you miss it? Answer: Terribly.
- When will you start coaching again? Answer: Mmmm...maybe someday but probably not for a very long time.
(A note added after writing this whole thing...This is not a short blog entry. It started out short and simple enough and then it turned into something more than just a reflection on education things. It became an extremely cathartic venture...so it gets a little intense at times.)
I don't know any good teacher who puts in their forty hours a week and then heads home; I would argue that good teachers spend far more time working outside of the actual "work day" than anyone in any other profession. Now, take this busy schedule and throw in coaching a high school sport. Many schools have either a contractual or unspoken expectation that teachers should coach an athletic team or advise a club. Coaching and advising are fantastic things that can have a tremendous positive impact on the life of a child but how can these duties fit into the current way of doing education? How can we expect someone to maintain high levels of performance while providing a positive experience for kids in the classroom and on the field of competition when doing both well would require them to put in 65+ hours of work in each week? I cannot adequately express the level of admiration I have for those teachers who are able to get the job done both in the classroom and on the field of athletic competition. I, unfortunately, am not one of those teachers. I once aspired to be an amazing father and husband, a rock star teacher, and a state caliber basketball coach. However, early in my high school coaching career and especially after my daughter was born, I began to recognize moments when all of these things started to succumb to mediocrity.
At first, the thing that suffered was my teaching. Late-night returns from distant away games meant less time to complete grading and prepare for the next day's lesson. Putting these things off meant a poorer educational experience the next day for my students. Doing this every once in a while sometimes turned into consecutive days. I was not okay with this. So, in order to try to make-up for it, I would get up super early (3am) or stay up super late (3am) to get ahead or, more often, catch-up. This well-intentioned plan, however, led to even more problems: Crankiness during the school day, tiredness during the school day, crankiness during practice, tiredness during practice, crankiness at home, and then pass out from exhaustion at 7pm after getting home from practice at 6pm. What started to happen was, in my attempt to be a great husband, teacher, and coach, I was starting to kind of suck in all three.
My daughter was born in the spring after my third season coaching JV girls basketball in my current district. For many months leading up to the start of the next season, my wife and I discussed my role in the basketball program, if any, would be best for our family. We reached the conclusion that it would be best for our family if I did not coach. Then, in what can only be described as the biggest violation of the trust and cooperative approach to decision making we had established in our ten years of being together, I unilaterally decided to continue coaching in the upcoming season, much to my wife's dismay. I thought "This won't be that bad" and "I know so many coaches who have done this! I'll be fine" and countless other attempts at rationalizing my decision. With hindsight, I now know that I was wrong...big time.
At the start of that season, my daughter was just over six months old. In Wisconsin, basketball season lasts from November to March. My previous solutions to "balancing" my obligations would prove to be even more detrimental this time around: Infants don't really care if it's two in the morning and you've been up since 6am. Without going through too many details, basically what was happening was this: During that season, I did not like the teacher I was becoming... tired, disconnected, with pretty awful pedagogy; I did not like the coach I was...enthusiastic and present but constantly distracted by the many school tasks and things at home that had to get done; I did not like the husband I was becoming...tired, tired, and constantly doing work at home instead of upholding my end of the partnership that is marriage; and I absolutely hated the father I had become...absent. There was one particular week that season where we had three road games and, due to the fantastic wonder that is winter in Wisconsin, all movement on the roads was severely slowed. That week I arrived at school by 6:30am every day. School was done by 3:30. On the three game days that week, the next step was get on the bus. By 5:30pm, we were at our destination. JV game at 6:00pm. Varsity followed, sometimes 7:30pm, but sometimes closer to 7:45pm. Varsity game done...9ish...maybe. Get on the bus. 10:00pm, maybe, get back to school. Wait for all the kids to drive off or get picked up. Head to classroom to stare at the pile of stuff that didn't get done. Get in car and drive home. 11pm, hopefully, arrive home. Kiss my sleeping daughter goodnight. Kiss my sleeping wife goodnight. Pass out. Get up at 5am. Try to get some work done, get ready for school, and then start it all over again.
That week, I saw my daughter, when she was awake, for less than three hours total...and I hated myself for it. I fell asleep hoping she would wake up in the middle of the night wanting to be fed or simply held just so I could interact with her, see her smile, or maybe even hear her use her newly discovered voice. Friends and colleagues told me before and after that week things like "Oh, she won't remember you being gone, she's so young" and other attempts at intellectualization. But, I remember I was gone that week and I remember the many other times I was gone that season when I didn't get to give her a bath, or read her a story, or tell her what I tell her every night before leaving her side, "Goodnight, I love you and I always will no matter what." I remember hearing second-hand all the developmental milestones she reached while I was at practice, at a game, or staying late after practice to catch up on school work.
I love coaching. I love teaching. I love my daughter. I love my wife. In my attempt to be everything for all four, I failed to fulfill even my lowest standard of what was acceptable in each case. So, I had to make a choice. But, calling it a choice is a bit of a misnomer. Not being the best husband I can be was never an option, not being the best father I can be was never an option, and not striving to best fulfill my vocation of being a teacher, taking classes to improve my skills and knowledge to better challenge, inspire, encourage, and support my students every day, this too, was never an option. So, I had to stop coaching.
Earlier in my life, for the sake of my mental and physical health, I had to make a difficult decision between two things I loved. One of my mentors, who was usually flippant, sarcastic, and cheeky when dispensing wisdom, spoke with me when I was in his office one time, bawling my eyes out, being torn apart inside by the weight of the decision that had to be made. He talked with me in such a caring and sincere manner that I had never experienced before nor since and in that calm, caring manner he told me this: "Sometimes in life, you have to choose between two things you love. If you choose the first, you will love it. If you choose the second, you will love it. Isn't that wonderful?"
My decision to stop coaching was not one I arrived at lightly and, although my players were disappointed, I like to think that someday they will fully appreciate my decision. With the added demands put on teachers today, I fear more and more talented and dedicated teachers will make the same decision I did. I say "I fear this," because great teachers make great coaches. They know how kids learn, they know how to motivate kids, and, I guess quite simply, they know kids. I am still involved in activities working with kids outside of the classroom through sports officiating, our booster club, service activities, middle school rewards activities, and more but these things are not the same as coaching a group of kids, interacting with them closely every day for two (or more) intense hours, seeing their crazy side (and sometimes showing yours) on long road trips filled with would-you-rather questions and other inane time fillers. But for the sake of my mental, emotional, and physical health, I had to make a choice between two things I loved.
I chose my family and my vocation over coaching and it is wonderful.
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