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Goal! Again!

Saturday 15 September 2012

Game two. The Girl sits out the first quarter. After her adventures last game, perhaps that’s best — start slowly.

When she enters the game, she volunteers to be the goalie. It’s a potential disaster: I anticipate her frustration if she lets a ball get through. She’s doesn’t take mistakes very easily, and I know as goalie, she’s likely to experience them — especially with number five on the opposing team, who seems to steamroll through the defense like a panzer column.

Sure enough, within a few moments of the start of play, the Steamroller Five comes barreling at the Girl. She pulls up a little short and shoots; the ball approaches L with decreasing speed. She bends down; she’s in position.

And the ball rolls right through. Instant frustration; intense irritation. She begins marching to the coach, tugging at the goalie jersey the team shares, when I call her back.

“No, sweetie,” I begin. “You have to stay in. This is your position. We can’t substitute right now just because you’re a little frustrated. But don’t worry — it’s your first time out. You’ll get the hang of it quickly enough.”

And the next time Steamroller Five shoots, the Girl makes the save. She makes a few more as the game continues, but come the second half, she’s ready to go on the offensive.

Her first goal is an act of pure aggression. The goalie makes the mistake of not controlling the ball fully, only gently resting his hands on the ball. L simply takes the free kick.

Her second goal of the the day, though, is a beauty, a joy to watch. She emerges from a pack of defenders and faces off with Steamroller Five, who’s been playing masterful defense the whole game. Just before Five can reach her, the Girl lets loose on a cross-goal shot.

that blasts past the goalie — himself a wonder. He’s been stopping shots left and right, and he’s not afraid to dive

This time, though, he’s a little late. The ball squirts past; Steamroller Five looks on; L collides with a defender — it’s straight out of the World Cup.

The shot just catches the bottom corner of the goal, with the goalie still refusing to give up and the Girl realizing fully she’ll be on the ground momentarily.

So with two games down, we have the stats that might just encourage her to continue. She’d probably like it more if she could wear a tiara, though.

Sharing

Friday 14 September 2012

"Name something you don't like to share."

Plinky

Shouldn't the selfless answer be something along the lines of "Absolutely nothing?" As a parent who is always working to teach my daughter (and soon, son) to share, I wonder if this isn't the perfect way to set an example. "Look, my child: there's absolutely nothing I would not share with you. I have my ice cream, but I'm only happy if it's our ice cream. In fact, it gives me more joy to give it all to you than simply to share it." Indeed, in such "sharing," I would certainly be getting the better end of the deal: ice cream melts, no matter what; joy lingers.

Sharing — Photo courtesy of bengrey via Creative Commons.

Yet isn't that also the reckless answer? As with most questions, the more one thinks about this, the broader the potential. Do I want to share my sorrows with my children? Do I want to share my pain?

And deeper still: if I don't want to share my sorrows with my children, why not? It would only be shielding them artificially from what they themselves would experience, and if I share my sorrow, I can control the dose. If I don't want to share my pain, then how can I expect them to share theirs with me, which is much more important?

Future Food

Sunday 09 September 2012

It must be boring to eat the same thing, meal after meal, day after day. I can’t imagine I’d like it very much. K and I used to eat oatmeal most mornings for breakfast, and then it became an everyday thing. It soon became clear to me that I must stop eating so much oatmeal or I’d never be able to look at a Quaker Oat’s box again without having a fit of some sort.

Yet that is precisely what E does, only it’s not a question of X or Y for breakfast or lunch every day. It’s a question of X for every meal, every single day.

Still, it won’t last long. He’s almost four months old. We’ve begun giving him rice cereal and grated apple. At the same time, it’s mixed with milk, so it probably tastes just about the same as every other meal — the consistency alone might be a little different.

But that doesn’t keep him from dreaming of the not-too-distant future.

Hat Trick

Saturday 08 September 2012

When Pele was just over seventeen years old, he became the youngest player to achieve a hat trick — three goals in a match — in a World Cup match. In 1930, Guillermo Stabile scored a hat trick during his debut World Cup game.

What happens if you combine the two?

All I was hoping for was a successful first game, and I defined success simply enough: enough enjoyment to encourage the Girl to continue with her soccer adventure. Certainly, I wanted her team to win — winning always feels good. But more than that, I wanted the Girl to leave with an eagerness to return. And so among my great fears was the shut-out. “If L’s team doesn’t score a single goal, it might be frustrating to her,” I thought.

There were other concerns as well. L is not always the most aggressive person, especially in novel situations, and a first-time soccer game is about as novel as one can imagine.

Yet right from the start, the Girl is aggressive. Really aggressive. She charges the ball without concerning herself about the number of kids kicking wildly at the ball, and she often emerges from the pack with the ball.

And then she scores.

We’ve all seen the typical reactions among the pros — the wild celebrations, the leaping, the shirt front over the head. L seems completely oblivious to the significance of what has just happened. Countless games have finished one-nil, and the sole scorer is automatically the hero.

L, ignorant of all this, simply walks away from the goal calmly, a bit confused even. But my reaction and the coach’s reaction tell her something big has happened.

“It can’t be a more perfect first game,” I think. No matter what happens now, we have something to celebrate. Even if her team loses 5-1, we have that single moment to smile about. “Wasn’t that a great feeling to score?” I’ll be able to ask.

But the Girl has other things on her mind. She continues charging. She continues heading straight for the goal. She continues shooting.

And she misses. Once. Twice. And then more lightning: another goal.

And then a third. A hat trick, on her first time out. As she walks away from the goal the third time, her teammates celebrating, a small smile appears on her face. She knows what she’s done. She’s gotten a taste of athletic greatness. And she likes it.

Not content with having scored the only goals for either team, she proclaims with calm assurance as we walk back to the car, “Next game, I’m going to score five goals.”

Watch out Messi, here comes the Girl.

Errors and Mistakes

Thursday 06 September 2012

In the midst of the process, it becomes obvious to me that the road these students are on will not lead to the results they want. They're working hard learning a new framework for planning and writing formal essays, but there are so many larger and smaller steps -- I couldn't have covered them all the first time through. Yet I sit and wonder whether or not I've made a mistake. Instead of essays, many of them are going to wind up with three body paragraphs that seem to have nothing to do with each other.

I'm left wondering what to do. Do I stop everyone and make a group course correction? That's likely only to confuse some. And besides, it's the process I'm teaching. I'm not worried as much about the finished product at this point as I am the steps the kids are taking to create that final product.

Then it occurs to me: sometimes the teachable moment is not in the moment. Sometimes it's best to let them stumble -- knowingly, even anticipating it -- so that their misstep will show them rather than tell them where they were on the wrong track.

"Mr. Scott," I envision one young lady beginning quizzically, "This essay we wrote -- it don't make sense."

"How so? What doesn't make sense?" I will reply, hoping that she will see then what I already clearly see Â now.

"I don't know. It's just," she might continue, pausing to look for the right way to express herself. "These paragraphs. They just don't go together somehow."

And I will smile and say, "I know, and I'm so very glad you've noticed that."

Stereo

Thursday 30 August 2012

The Girl was heading up to bed. Teeth were brushed, hair combed. But one thing remained.

"I'm going to bed," she said.

"Oh, no, no, no! Not until you..." came the stereo response.

Practice

Sunday 26 August 2012

I learned to appreciate soccer sitting with friends at this or that bar in Lipnica Wielka or sitting with my in-laws, watching club play as well as Euro Cup and World Cup tournaments. It’s a deceptive game for the uninitiated, and since I’d never played or even really watched the game, I had no idea about much of it.

And so when it comes time to start helping the Girl with her new soccer skills, I have to rely on the basics, things I’ve inferred from watching but never actually been taught — like kicking with the inside-top of the foot for better control.

It soon becomes clear, though, that the Girl either kicks the ball with the side of her foot or the front of her foot — perhaps too much too quickly.

Other skills are simpler, like stopping the ball.

In the end, though, we deduce that the best option is simply to encourage the enjoyment of the game, The finer points will come later.

First Day 2012

Wednesday 22 August 2012

Who knows how many times I’ve done it. If I had to count, I probably could count how many “first days” at school I’ve experienced. With time on both sides of the desk, I suppose I’d have to be now nearing thirty first days.

But I still remember my first first day. Some degree of nervousness, some level of excitement, some small amount of disappointment mixed with a great deal of joy.

I would like to think the Girl will remember her first first day. That she will remember how the night before her worries and fears melted in the morning to a smile and a paradoxically calm excitement.

That she will remember her idea to have a desert picnic after dinner. That she will recall her planning and packing for the picnic.

That she will linger over the memory of cuddling up to her mother, snuggling with her baby brother.

And that she’ll think of that first day every time she sees an ice cream truck.

Support

Wednesday 15 August 2012

The first real step toward mobility is probably the ability to roll over. The only thing we as parents can do to help that develop, though, is simply to put the Boy on his belly as often as possible, most frequently just before feeding.