You are a Colossal Bitch!

You are a Colossal Bitch!

That was the phrase said to me at a rehearsal once. I can still hear it. I can still see the rehearsal site. I remember every single detail of that day. It doesn't matter where or who, but that's what a color guard instructor said to me when I was perceived as not trying hard enough. The reality was that I was trying and was already very aware of my errors. I was already beating myself up, but they saw it differently. They saw a person who wasn't trying or not living up to their potential and I paid the price through verbal abuse.

This post is about how we talk to performers, how they perceive us and if we aren't careful, how our outer voice becomes their inner voice...for life. Today I see color guard members I taught back in my twenties and almost want to beg for their forgiveness in how I ran rehearsals, spoke to them, and some of the things I made them do. I was young. I didn't have anyone telling me I was wrong and was simply repeating a pattern of what I saw as a performer. I was a part of a world championship team and success was gained through tough coaching and at times, emotional abuse.  Kids don't need to be coddled, but most definitely don't need to be berated. They assuredly need to be encouraged. I don't think we do that enough as youth coaches. I know I didn't when I first started out. Sometimes I'm so caught up in getting the show finished or the phrase clean, that I forget that somewhere in count 8, are kids looking for me to lead them. They watch me and they hear me. They feel what I say.

The adolescent brain is not developed at the level the adult brain is and a teenager's perception is often based on emotion as opposed to logic. This is where much of their drama comes from. This is where misinterpretation happens. Often what an adult says is misinterpreted, because kids respond to emotion first, while we as the adult are trying to use logic. It's a skill that adults need to acquire if they want to be effective while coaching teens. What we say, how we say it, our tone, and our body language is all up for interpretation and is important. The performers we teach see themselves in us and their self-esteem is based on how we respond to them.

"You are a colossal bitch!"  To this day, I can still hear the tone as the phrase was yelled out.

The words we use are crucial. It's beyond important here in 2016, where we now know more about psychology and the human brain than ever before. I follow coaches of all types and in sports I don't even like. I enjoy learning how great coaches get their players to perform by what they say and how they say it. Some, I completely disagree with and I don't care if they are coaching an NFL linebacker or major league pitcher. I don't care if they just won the Final Four. Berating, humiliating, and throwing tantrums are not just unprofessional, but out right abusive. They are foolish. One of my favorite coaches comes from a sport that I actually dislike. His name was John Wooden and coached basketball at UCLA. He once stated that you need to find little ways to show your players that you care. "Small gestures make a big difference," he said. He won multiple NCAA titles, but his life as a coach was one of compassion and for which he is known. He believed in building cooperation, enthusiasm, team spirit, and confidence as a method for success.

"You are a colossal bitch!" This is NOT a method of building confidence.

Confidence. Think about it. How well do you build confidence in your performers? Really think about it, because we all can't be the greatest color guard instructor of all time. Sometimes we are amazing designers, but terrible motivators. Some of us are incredible technicians, but awful leaders. Some of the best choreographers are the ones we've never seen or heard about, because they stay behind the scenes and let their performers do the speaking for them. Some only coach at the local level, because that's where they know they can make the greatest difference. Going national is not important to them. Not everyone can be a nationally renowned designer or technician, but we can all be better coaches. Many, if I'm being honest, are simply what the rest of the world would call an abuser. Isn't it amazing how in sports, abuse is tolerated and often celebrated if you show enough success?

So I write this today to ask you to look at your coaching style, and ask yourself what your outside voice is telling the inside voice of your performers. Are they overweight? If so, it is most likely a given that they are concerned about costuming. They probably struggle with conditioning. How do you approach that? Are they tall and somewhat awkward? Are they they only male in your program? It must be hard for a boy to actively engage in the performing arts, while managing the male testerone of the high school scene. What about the one girl who doesn't have the same skin color as the rest of the guard? What we say matters and how we show an understanding that each performer is unique and valued, speaks volumes to our success. 

When was the last time you said these phrases?

Great job. It's getting better.

Let's come back tomorrow and get even better. 

I'm looking forward to seeing you tomorrow.

I care about you and what happens to you in your life.

I know you're struggling. I see progress. 

You can point out errors and even become angry without name calling, throwing things, and using your power as a coach to control their mind through fear.

What about the pat on the back? When was the last time you went to that one girl who is shy and uncomfortable in her body and walked up behind her on the field and said, "You are doing great. Keep it up." What about the girl who can't throw the toss with the rest of the guard or the one that learns her choreography slower than the rest? Have you told her that you see her trying or see her progress? By doing this we aren't building weak humans who can't handle life, we are building young adults who grow to become parents, professionals, and coaches who take our activity to the next level; filled with empathy and compassion. With each new generation we learn a little bit more about coaching. The stories of throwing music stands, water bottles, and name calling sound barbaric and ridiculous in today's world. It's because we now know what was happening was abuse. It's because we are growing and learning as a society. We have more information today. We take from other sports and other coaches and learn. Do you remember how Bobby Knight from IU threw chairs and tantrums and we as the public ate it up, as if that was how you lifted an athlete to their potential? It is now frowned upon because really, who in the hell has ever gotten better out of fear over compassion? When I was in the Navy and attended boot camp, I expected to be yelled and cussed at, because that's what I thought happened. That's not what happened. The military learned that yelling and cussing does not create a better soldier and does nothing for retention. They changed and grew. 

I am not a colossal bitch and never was. I believed it, though. I look back and I wonder how that day influenced my teaching. I wonder how it impacted my self-esteem. I wonder if at any level it impacted my string of bad relationships, especially the one that hit me and the other one that told me I was worthless. When your coach, the person who is supposed to be the believer of you doesn't show that they believe in you, then you will believe the worst. I often wonder what would have happened if that person had ever asked me how I felt about myself as a performer. If they had, they would have found that I was a perfectionist and was very hard on myself, as most world class performers are. 

I sometimes want to call that instructor who called me a bitch and tell them that I can still hear their words in my head. I'm still haunted at times when teaching others and am very aware of how I may be perceived by the kids I coach. There was a time when abuse was celebrated as a means to success. This was before science allowed us to understand the impact of abuse on the human mind and psyche'. We lacked the knowledge of how the brain works. We weren't aware that men and women have different societal influences that create who we are on the inside, thus creating a difference in performers. We didn't know. Now we do and there are no longer excuses for not bettering yourself as a coach.  I don't care if I'm liked by the kids I'm in front of, but I do care if I reach them. I care that my words resonate with them on an internal level. I care that they leave me as better people. I do care that they know I care, even when I  raise my voice for impact.

What will your voice be as you head to your next rehearsal?