What coaches and parents can learn from a caring teacher

Good teachers, like good coaches, lead by example.

Hi everyone,

I can't believe we're almost halfway through July.  Once our summer camps hit full stride, there doesn't seem to be enough hours in the day to get everything done.

So I'll post this quickly, with little by way of an introduction. Suffice to say, I owe a great deal of gratitude to Martha Gillespie, my daughter Maddi's third grade teacher. Here's why:

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What coaches and parents can learn from a caring teacher

Martha Gillespie is a coaching hero of mine. You probably don't know her. Don't feel bad. Martha Gillespie is not a hockey coach. She isn't famous. She was an elementary school teacher. But the traits she embodied are universal trademarks of good coaching (as well as good teaching, and good parenting).

Mrs. Gillespie espoused four beliefs that every coach, and every parent, can benefit from. First, she cared deeply about each student who walked into her classroom, and would go to bat for them even in the face of bureaucratic inertia. But she still held her students to a high standard, regardless of the challenges a diverse room of 3rd graders presents. That's point No. 2.

Which leads to Nos. 3 and 4. When Martha saw an issue, she was able to communicate with a child's parents clearly and concisely, sharing her concerns. And finally, she upheld the first three points because she never once mailed it in.

Based on her actions, Martha Gillespie never once considered teaching as a job, or obligation. It was a calling. In a great many ways (she abhorred the term "a lot"), that's what separates great coaches – coaches who truly make a difference – from those who are simply meeting a perceived responsibility.

How do I know Martha Gillespie? She was the third grade teacher of my eldest child, Mary. My daughter had struggled through second grade. She loved school, so it wasn't a case of a child who wanted to be elsewhere. But she did have trouble applying herself.

Her second grade teacher simply shrugged off Mary's inconsistent effort, and suggested she was just lazy. "Messy" and "disorganized" were two other adjectives. It wasn't said in a malicious way, but more just a matter-of-fact statement.

Since Mary was our first, my wife and I didn't really know any better when it came to expectations at school. We challenged her to buckle down, while realizing she was only 8. She could frustrate us, but we figured she was just going through the normal progression.

That changed the next year, with Martha Gillespie. A former elementary school librarian, Mrs. Gillespie noticed early on that Mary wasn't keeping pace.

"She recognized that Mary was an inattentive daydreamer, which is a hallmark of ADHD in girls," said my wife, Lauri, an occupational therapist. "It's very different from what most people characterize as ADHD."

When most people hear ADD (Attention Deficit Disorder), or ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder), they think of children who are fidgety, hyperactive, impulsive, and maybe even disruptive. Mary wasn't any of these. But she was slow to transition in the classroom.

Mary was typically the last one to get her materials out for a new project, the last to put things away when the class moved on to another topic, and the last out the door for recess. Not a big deal, right? But Martha Gillespie made a note of it. In a classroom of 22 kids, she recognized that this child was struggling to keep up.

"Martha always had such a clear voice," said Lauri. "What made her special was that she was able to pay so much attention to one child in her class, and advocate for her. She took action. Not many teachers would do that.

"She saw Mary's action within the classroom setting, and recognized that it could be a problem for her long-term, if not addressed early."

Which brings me back to the four major principles that Mrs. Gillespie brought to her profession that any coach can benefit from.

Caring. Like any good coach or parent, Mrs. Gillespie made the effort to look below the surface. She didn't take my daughter at face value, but took the time to see if there was something else going on. She encouraged us to have Mary tested, both by the school, and more importantly, by outside evaluators.

In that way, Martha Gillespie displayed a rare and special attention to detail. That’s what coaches need to do. Kids aren't created equal. You need to get to know each one of them, and understand what makes them tick. That's a tall order. But it's also what makes coaches special.

Accountability. For Martha Gillespie, "caring" was a two-way street. Her students had to care as well. She never made any excuses for Mary, and I assume that she held our child to the same standard as every other youngster in her class. That was important to Lauri and me. Moreover, this is where Mrs. Gillespie was able to establish a level of expectation that applied to every child.

This is not semantics. Children will have different strengths and weaknesses, in the classroom and in the playing arena. So it's OK for teachers, and coaches, to adjust their expectations based on those individual qualities. But the one constant is effort. Martha Gillespie insisted that Mary try. And she had our full support.

Communication. Here's another "two-way" street. Identifying an issue is only the start. If you're a coach, you need to be able to talk to the parents of a child if there's an issue interfering with the team's chemistry. Conversely, parents have a two-fold responsibility.

First, if your child does have a disability, you coach deserves to know. Don't assume it won't be an issue (I'm speaking from experience here). Second, if you've taken that step, and you feel it's falling on deaf ears, you need to advocate for your child. That's not always easy, but it's necessary.

Commitment. Teaching, like coaching, ought to be a calling first, and a profession second. Martha Gillespie did what she felt was the right thing to do, regardless of what the consequences might be. How many of us can say that?

Like Mary's second-grade teacher, Mrs. Gillespie could have let our daughter coast. Her grades were satisfactory, if unexceptional, and she would have graduated. That wasn't acceptable to Martha. Instead, she went to bat for a child who she felt had potential, but wouldn't fulfill that promise without extra help.

Though I have no hard evidence, I'm convinced that having Mrs. Gillespie serve as such a strong advocate for Mary made it easier for Lauri and I to get our child the assistance she needed. We had her tested at Children's Hospital, and they confirmed Mrs. Gillespie's suspicions.

Our local school district was very supportive, "but that was driven by how attentive Martha was," said Lauri. "These were subtle things. They weren't blatant."

This past June, Mary graduated from high school, with a 3.4 grade point average. To say I'm immensely proud of this young woman would be an understatement. This child, together with my wife, worked her tail off, and made herself into a better student. As you read this, she'll be a freshman at the University of New England, pursuing a degree in sports medicine, and playing for the Nor'easters volleyball team.

At her graduation, my wife and I invited Mary's high school volleyball coach, who was tremendous advocate for our daughter, and one former teacher. That teacher was Martha Gillespie. She brought a scrapbook that her students had made for her, nine years earlier. The fact that she kept that memento was another testament to what her students meant to her.

As she was preparing to leave, I pulled Mrs. Gillespie aside. I told her I couldn't let her go without saying "Thank you," and sharing the immense sense of gratitude that came from the bottom of my heart.

"Please, you're going to make me cry," she said.

But I was way ahead of her. My eyes welled up with tears as I told this woman what an important role she played in helping to pave the road that would allow my daughter to succeed, not only in school, but also in life. Whatever this child achieves going forward, she will owe a debt to her third grade teacher.

What a wonderful legacy for any teacher. Or coach.

FINIS

Coaches can never forget they're teachers first

Clear communication is a key to good coaching.

Hi gang,

Happy Tax Day! Nothing like the thought of Uncle Sam reaching deep into my wallet to motivate me to find a healthy distraction. So, instead, I thought I'd concentrate on something I can feel good about, which often brings me back to hockey.

For the most part, hockey has always been a great outlet for me, whether I'm playing, coaching, or simply watching. It's a sport that I can literally immerse myself in, which allows me an escape from life's little day-to-day headaches. For me, the best part of a team sport is sharing experiences, that interaction with the other players. And that's all about communication. On the coaching side, it means teaching. Which brings me to this month's topic. Let me know what you think ...

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Coaches can never forget they're teachers, first and foremost

Mom always used to say, "There's a right way and a wrong way to do things." Pretty simple advice, which is often the best advice. There's definitely a right way, and a wrong way, to coach young hockey players, and especially goalies. For the most part, it boils down to communication.

With the explosion of youth hockey, there are more and more teams, and subsequently the need for more and more coaches. Many are qualified. Many aren't. To some degree, it's a numbers game. But I've seen a raft of former players filling these spots, with mixed results. Just because you could play, doesn't automatically mean you can coach.

The best case I can recall comes from the National Basketball League, with Larry Bird. Even though Bird was successful, it was painfully obvious that he didn't always have the patience necessary to deal with players who didn't grasp the game as quickly as he did. The same disconnect frustrated Wayne Gretzky during his tenure in Phoenix.

Obviously, it's one thing to be able to do something, and another thing altogether to be able to convey how to do that particular something to someone else. The key is being able to communicate. Sadly, though, communication has become something of a lost art. I've seen it repeatedly, observing countless youth hockey and high school games. Coaches, arms crossed, exhorting their players without actually taking the time (and effort) to teach them. It makes me wonder why they're coaching.

Remember why you took the job (realizing, for most of us, it's not a "job" as much as a calling). Was it all about wins and losses, or was it about helping kids improve? That's what you need to focus on. If you do that, the wins and losses will take care of themselves. But player development has to be your No. 1 priority.

Think about this scenario. I've watched a coach leave the rink following a loss without saying a word to a team of 13- and 14-year-olds. This is not coaching. It's pouting. What does this "teach" your players? Instead, you run the risk of a bunch of boys or girls looking around at each other and thinking, "Well, I guess coach doesn't care." Now, I understand, and even appreciate, that the coach might be upset, but the coach also has to remember who the adult is in this equation.

Likewise, screaming at your players from the bench to "work harder" has a limited application. Even if you're right, there's usually more at issue than just effort. Often at the Squirt, Pee Wee and Bantam levels, the players need instruction. You need to be able to explain, in the moment, what happened, what a player did wrong, and what that player should have done instead. You need to teach. And you need to do it right then and there, when the play is still fresh in the player's mind. In many ways, it's the coach who has to "work harder."

In the same vein, telling the goalie to "stop the puck" is meaningless. I mean, d'uh! Every goalie I've ever worked with, over nearly two decades of coaching, knows that's the job. Stop the puck. But as young goalies develop, they're going to make mistakes, and it's the coaches job to catalog those mistakes and help them correct them.

This is the teaching component. Firing a ton of pucks at your goalies isn't going to improve their technique. In fact, it's likely to increase the number of flaws in their game. If you don't have a goaltending background, learn the basics, and be able to demonstrate. There are a number of first-rate instructional books on the market (the more current, the better) that will provide this working knowledge.

If you juggle the line-up, or replace the starting goalie, explain to your players about why you made that decision. Don't make them guess. Whether your team is playing at the squirt level, high school, or above, players deserve to know. Asking a child to interpret why they were demoted is just unfair. That's when a lot of wayward notions can come into play, things like, "The coach doesn't like me," or "The coach is playing favorites." That's not cultivating team chemistry.

Finally, some coaches implement a "No parents" rule, meaning any communication has to come from the kids. I understand why, especially in this day and age of helicopter parents. But I don't agree. First, the coach/player dynamic is completely skewed against the child. Second, coaches ought to be able to discuss the rationale behind their decisions with another adult.

Coaches who are unwilling to talk to a parent are shirking their duty. Period. Whether a paid position or volunteer, coaching is a privilege, and carries certain responsibilities. And if your players are high school age or younger, you need to engage the parents.

How do you make your players better? You need to teach.

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MAIL BAG

One of the best parts of my work, as a coach and columnist, is being able to help out parents, coaches, and their goalies. Here's a recent letter that depicts a classic dilemma for many goalie parents.

The letter: My 11-year-old son is a strong AAA goalie on a mediocre team. He averages approximately 20-25 shots a game, and over 30 shots when he plays against the two top teams. He is currently a difference maker in his games but they tend to lose more than win and can’t really compete with top teams in the area. Lately he has been receiving a lot of serious interest from these top teams who think he could be the missing piece to their already power house organizations. These teams are claiming he will develop into a better goaltender through practice, training and competing against the other top-level teams. However, these teams don't allow many shots in a game as they are so structured defensively. My question is, should I leave him where he is or take him to one of these top teams? Where will he develop the most?

My reply: This is a great question. Your son is lucky that you're advocating on his behalf. The answer, though, is complicated. Many teams just want a better goalie because they want to win, and aren't genuinely concerned about goalie "development." I'm not saying that's the case here, but you want to be aware of the possibility. Getting more shots in a game is a good thing, provided your son isn't getting discouraged. Here are a few things to consider:

1) What is the quality of practice/coaching he's getting now? Will it improve with another team? It's been my experience that select teams don't automatically mean better coaching, though many select teams will bring in goalie coaches, which is a plus.

2) What is the quality of shots he's seeing now? Will he see better shots with a select team? Better shots, not necessarily more, make a better goalie.

3) A better team will arguably provide better shots in practice. And practice is really where ALL players, including the goalies, improve.

Bottom line, it's not just the number of shots in a game. It's the quality of shots in games and practices, and the quality of coaching. I'd take all of those into account before making your decision. Good luck!

FINIS