track meet

I had a very odd thing happen yesterday at the track meet. All day long I kept having these flashbacks (Sign #1 you've been watching Lost too much). Only I wasn't flashing back to throwing in a college track meet, or receiving my t-shirt for placing well, or stretching before competition....  I kept flashing back to all the things my coach did during meets. Standing way off on my own watching, I thought about the particular way he used to stand while watching us -- how he would always pick a corner off to the side, away from everyone else. When I motioned Matt over to talk to him, I remembered my own coach's little hand motion. All day long I felt like I suddenly knew my coach a little bit better, now that I was walking in his shoes, so to speak. I laughed out loud when I found myself playing with a piece of tinfoil absentmindedly; he used to always play with a piece of a stick, or a plastic straw, in the long pauses between throws.

These little flashbacks were helpful, too. I caught myself before giving too much advice – I remembered  the way he always used to back off (even when I wanted more advice) because too many suggestions won't help at the last minute. I realized which meet official would be worthwhile to direct a question, and which ones I should clearly avoid.

What struck me the most about the day was how exhilarating it is to have a group of kids depend on you. This doesn't happen as often as I would like in the classroom- many kids are simply out to prove that they don't need you, that they “be already grown”, that you are simply complicating their lives with your silly worksheets and your boring stories and your annoying notes. But at the track meet, here were a group of people (they're not really children, and certainly not adults) who looked to me for answers, who asked me before acting, who needed me for help, who trust me.... who depended on me. That is an unbelievable good feeling. In fact, today made me realize why parenting will be such a joy ... not just that you made a little person out of yourself, but that the little person is completely dependent on you for its livelihood (rather than, say, a single day at a track meet).

The questions came constantly (here I also began to remember a former coach refusing to take questions at track meets...) Can we fold up the tent? Where we stopping to eat? Where the gold shot put? When do I throw? What time it is? When do I throw? When do I throw? Can we eat now? Where the food at? Should I wear these shoes? What time it is?

All day long my phone was ringing: “Hey Co', its LaTravis.”  “Hi LaTravis”  “Uhh, where you at?”  “I'm over by the long jump area, what's up?”  “Oh, okay. (a pause)  Should I warm-up now?”

And again, a half hour later: “Ms. M, come to the girl's bathroom right away. Kashaye just finished the 3200 and she is getting sick all over herself”

And again, “Hey Co'  could you call Coach K?  Shatterica here in the tent and she cryin' and in pain and I think she hurt. “

At 11p.m. “ Co? “   “Yes? Hello?”    “Uhh, you still at school?”     “No, I am on my way home, what's wrong?”     “Uh, I left my Bluetooth on the bus. What do I do?”

All in all, a great day. The kids we took were all good kids, and the weather was beautiful.  On the bus ride home, the kids were being hilarious – the whole bus was in stitches... I can't remember the last time I laughed that hard.  Good things.