Coach

I got to visit with a lot of people back home during my week there, including Coach S., who I hadn’t seen in at least five years. When I knew him, he was a high school counselor and girls’ basketball coach; now he works for the district as a diagnostician. He and I spent over an hour catching up. 

When I was 14, I made the varsity basketball team at the small school I attended and proceeded to have an awful time. I was the only freshman on the team and the older girls were ruthless. School in general was hard that year and, for a combination of reasons, I knew by mid-spring that I would not be returning for sophomore year and would instead be going to the high school for our address. 

I met Coach S. when my parents and I attended a registration session at my new high school in the spring of freshman year. He led the meeting and gave the group a tour of the school. 

As a sophomore, I tried out for basketball and made the C-team. It was a wonderful season and a great first year at the new school. I was used to being abused at basketball; now I had a new group of friends. We had an undefeated season under the guidance of Coach S. 

It wasn’t all cake, though. Athletes did weekly grade checks so coaches always knew what was going on in the classroom. When I was being disruptive and argumentative in my history class, he made me explain the situation to the whole team. He told me he would always side with the teacher. When I had some C’s, my GPA still easily high enough to stay eligible, he was not shy about expressing his disappointment. 

One time I came to practice after having eaten a bunch of gummies, which made me feel sick and I was not giving much effort. Furious, he punted a basketball across the gym. I also got kicked out of practice one time; I can’t remember if it was the same day as the punting. During one of our games, I got subbed out of the game and, annoyed, didn’t high five Coach’s outstretched hand as I passed him to sit on the bench. Because of that, I didn’t go in for the rest of the game. Coach S. demanded excellence and wasn’t going to take my crap. 

The policy was that only freshmen and sophomores could play on C-team; juniors had to make JV or varsity and seniors had to make varsity. So my big goal between March and November was to avoid getting cut. I went to open gyms, shot baskets from designated spots and recorded it in a log during the summer, and did a lot of running. 

Coach S. ran some preseason sessions and mostly freshmen attended, plus another junior and me who had been on his C-team as sophomores. During one of these sessions, he was explaining to the freshmen something about the importance of respect and correct behavior in the basketball program. By then I had shaped up enough that I wasn’t getting in trouble in class nor getting kicked out of practices, so he used me as an example, telling the group that he and I “had a coming to Jesus”. This was followed by some giggles, and he soon realized it was because I’m Jewish. He apologized, but I hadn’t been offended; I thought it was funny. 

Despite my hard work, I was cut from the program in November. I was devastated. I knew Coach S. was who I wanted to talk to about it, so I wrote my name on his sign up sheet and he called me out of class a few days later. I sat there and listened as he described the coaches deliberating about who to keep and who to cut. He told me something to the effect of they didn’t want to keep me on the team just to sit on the bench because they knew I would be unhappy with that. 

It was around this time that I decided I wanted to do stats for the JV team he would be coaching. Firstly, let me tell you who cares about the stats from high school JV girls’ basketball: nobody. Nonetheless, he took me seriously and said I needed to write a proposal of specifically what I wanted to do. I did, and we agreed on my job as JV Statistician. So I sat on his bench all season, probably distracting his players, probably missing at least a quarter of the rebounds, steals, and turnovers I was supposed to be tallying because I wasn’t paying attention, but feeling very much included in the basketball program. 

Growing up can be hard, even with involved and loving parents, which I had and have, and Coach S. is one of several teachers/school employees who made my journey a little better. Now that I’m a teacher myself, I hope to be to at least some of my students who these people were to me.

Several Days a Week

I see you several days a week

Those days you can hitch a ride

I wish I could just squeeze you

And say everything will be alright

But alas if I attempted such a feat 

For one, it’d make you mad

And also I’d be lying

Because I really don’t know what lies ahead

Life’s unfair, I hope you know

You don’t deserve this fate

I want you to see you can have a future

But what if it’s too late?

The woman who birthed you is not a mom

Of that you should be aware

I don’t know why she chooses him over you

But it’s so horribly unfair

There’s more to life than hospitals and school

One day, I hope you’ll see 

All kinds of opportunities await you

And you can be whatever you want to be

But to reach that point, I’m sorry to say

You must first survive this mess

And the meltdowns and the anger

Are challenging your path to success 

So here’s my prayer for you, my boy

As you travel through this life

I have such high hopes for you

Despite your path of strife

Stay strong, be a friend, and act like a sponge

Take in all we have to teach

We’re not here to fight with you 

We want to see how far you can reach

You love to draw and you’re good at it, too

Did you know people pay for that?

I could see you as an artist, a builder 

You are made for such a craft

For now, though, you’re ten

And your job is to be a kid

You may not think much of me

But every day I hope for you

From the Very First Moment

I'm nearly 26 and have no children. I live alone, just my dog and me, and work a full-time job. You see, I know I'm not ready to have children, because I know the following to be true: From the moment you find out you're pregnant, or that your wife/fiancé/girlfriend/hookup buddy is pregnant, you become second to another life. This is how it must be.

I see kids every day whose parents do not understand this concept.

It means switching out the vodka and beer to water or iced tea when you're out at the bar with friends. Do you not realize that your drinking and drug use affects your growing child? Or do you just not care?

It means deciding if you will raise the child yourself or place him or her for adoption. Do you not realize you're not ready for a child and that he or she would have a better life being raised by adoptive parents? Or do you just not care?

It means finding a stable home in which to raise your child. Do you not realize that moving from place to place affects your child? Or do you just not care?

It means making peace with your child's other parent. Do you not realize that your nasty relationship with your ex affects your child? Or do you just not care?

It means putting your dating life on hold. Do you not realize that leaving your child home alone to go spend the night with your boyfriend affects your child? Or do you just not care?

It means staying out of jail. Do you not realize that being unreachable affects your child? Or do you just not care?

It means finding a way to feed and clothe your child. Do you not realize that using your welfare money for your own entertainment affects your child? Or do you just not care?

It means enrolling your child in school and being involved in his or her education. Do you not realize that your apathy toward education affects your child? Or do you just not care?

It means protecting your child's innocence. Do you not realize that the people and activities you allow around the home will affect your child? Or do you just not care?

It means protecting your child's physical safety. Do you not realize that letting your six-year-old ride in the front seat with no seatbelt affects your child? Or do you just not care?

It means being present and interested in your child's life. Do you not realize that your lack of knowledge of your child's friends, teachers, and activities affects your child? Or do you just not care?

Having a child means your happiness comes second. Your fun comes second. Your comfort comes second. Even your health, safety, and wellbeing come second. As a mother or father, this is your job, your sacred duty. There is no other way.