How does the parent plan for the lesson?

Skaters in individual lessons actually have two teachers-- the coach, and the parent.

But the parent's job has very little to do with the skating. The worst thing you can do as a parent is to ever talk about technical skills. Your job is greasing the skids, whether it's getting the kid to practice, mediating coaching disputes, or, yes, paying the bills.

Not that I was this sort of parent, but the best way you can help your skater is on the sly.

By this I don't mean sneak around the skater's back, exactly. (Okay, there's a little bit of sneaking around his back.)  I mean create an environment that rewards good skating behavior.

The schedule
Your skater needs to own her schedule, but kids think about this minute, not the next minute, and tomorrow never comes. Twelve hours ahead of the lesson, ask about the lesson. Very innocently, butter wouldn't melt in your mouth-- "when's your next practice/lesson, honey?" For after school skaters, you're asking this in the morning over breakfast. For early morning skaters, you're asking at dinner, or bedtime. Make the kid think about it.

A great idea is to have a calendar on the fridge with nothing but skating on it, so the skater can go check. Tie a bright red sharpie to the calendar, so she can put an X through the practice or lesson once it's done. Put the calendar in a public and accessible place, not the skaters room. The message is "we all support/make space for this" and "it's easy to keep track of."


The idea is to make sure the skater has the schedule in his or her head. You don't want to say "don't forget you have to skate in the morning." Very confrontational, and implying that without you the skater will forget. (This may be true, but don't rub it in.) Ask "when is your practice/lesson?" or ask what they'll be working on, or bring up the new dress or tights (if appropriate).


Speaking of tights
It drives me absolutely insane to see parents 1- rifling through the skater's bag, and 2-complaining about it.  The skater's bag is her personal space at a rink. Serious skaters in particular live their lives in public. They can't practice by themselves, eat by themselves, cry by themselves or even dress by themselves. Give them that small bit of privacy, and let them rifle through their own bags. Of course, since we're being sneaky here, this does not mean you have to always be going to the rink with only one glove.  Give the skater 10 extra minutes (I know that's hard) to go through the bag before you leave the house. Tape a checklist onto the top, or laminate one and hang it off the handle.  Make it part of the bedtime ritual--"check your skating bag!"


And if she forgets her tights, or her gloves or her practice journal? Let her figure it out at the rink. If you're always rescuing her (or him), you're not teaching self-reliance, a crucial skill for a skater. Believe it or not, they can find a solution to the missing tights--other skaters, lost and found, the costume room, or the tights that they in fact know are stashed under the back seat of the car, which you didn't know about.


Late
Everyone is overbooked. But late-for-lessons is THE number one complaint I hear from coaches. Especially when the parents then expect the coach to do the full lesson anyway. Not going to happen. You don't pay for 30 minutes. You pay for a time slot. It's only 30 minutes if you're there at the start of it. If your lesson is 3:30 to 4:00 and you're not on the ice until 3:45, that doesn't mean you get a lesson until 4:15, because someone else has the 4:00 time slot. It also doesn't mean the coach only charges you for 15 minutes.


But you know all that. And you're always late anyway. Which stresses out everyone.


And here's the solution-- Do. Not. Schedule. Lessons...if there is even a chance that you're going to have trouble getting there. Not a morning person? Please don't schedule 6 a.m. lessons. School gets out at 3:15? 3:45 lesson is NOT going to happen unless the school is next door. And you know it. It's like a diet. Don't set an impossible goal, however noble it is.


Post hoc, propter hoc, ad hoc
We're talking about the lesson review. Don't talk about what happened in the lesson. Not after, not before, not about. You can ask "did you have fun" "did you learn anything new" "is there anything I need to ask Coach about." You cannot make the child preview the practice "what are you going to work on today." You can make sure the practice journal is on the bag checklist. You cannot (cannot cannot) make the child talk about the lesson, the practice, the competition on the ride home. Ask any former student athlete the thing they hated most about growing up as an athlete and the ride home Monday morning quarterbacking tops the list. Never do this. It's that private space again--let the kid own it.


But I need to know stuff
Ask the coach. Better yet, ask the coach if she has "office hours" when you can call or sit down, without the child present. Use email. Don't try to get the low down just before or just after the lesson. Chances are the coach has another student and won't be able to give you the attention you want (or deserve). If your skater is right there you won't be able to be as honest, or if you are honest, you're embarrassing the skater.

What are your best tips for sneaky parenting?

Talking to yourself

Self talk--by which I mean tin-foil hat, pretend there's someone at the other end of the cell phone, outloud crazy person talking to yourself while you're practicing--is one of the most effective practice tools at your disposal, and if you don't mind the weird looks, it's free.

One thing at a time
Just as the trick to coaching is often finding the root problem, you need to find out what is that you want to remind yourself to do. Let's take beginning three turns-- there's a lot going on in a really short amount of time, so you can't say, at the start "okay I'm going to push and then up there at the top of the arc (wait, how will I know where that is?) I'm going to rotate and then when I'm backwards I'll check, and I know my arms belong somewhere and if they're wrong then the turn is a spin? or I'll fall? something? and then I'll glide."  Class is over by the time you get all the way through this. Think about the skill-- push, glide, rotate, check, glide. You have plenty of time to say, and do, each of these things in order.

Complex skills
Of course, if you're running a program, or jumping axels, or doing combination spins, you cannot possibly pick out each thing you need to think about. So you need to focus on one or two key items-- do you rush your jumps? Then your self-talk word might be "wait." Do you bobble the landing? Say "strong." This is where you need a pair of outside eyes to spot the point at which you need to talk to yourself. If you watch certain skaters you can actually see them talking to themselves.

KISS
Keep it Simple, Stupid works brilliantly here. Say one thing, say that same thing every time you are in the same situation. Your self-talk won't help you if what you end up saying is "what was I supposed to be telling myself here?"

Stay positive
Self talk can also be self-destructive. If you tell yourself, "crap I always fall on the double sal" then you will always fall on the double sal. Self talk helps you set up expectations-- it can be specific instructions related to the skill but it can also be a pep talk. What it can't be is a recitation of mistakes or fears.

Say it
Eventually, you'll train yourself to do the self-talk to yourself. But when you're teaching yourself this skill, do it out loud. You'll look a little weird, but on the other hand, if everyone is doing what they're supposed to be doing, no one will be paying attention to you. By saying it aloud you can keep it confined--your thoughts are much more likely to wander than a verbal command.

Have you used self-talk? Does your or your skater's coach teach this technique?

Do I have to test, aGAIN?

I never skated as a child.  In highschool, we used to "skate" on the cornfield across the street from our house, but this was less skating than it was picking your way between the corn stalks.

I skated in college through about Freestyle 3 or 4 (we didn't call it that then but I was working on loops and backspins, so I guess that's what it was).

And then I didn't skate for 17 years.

As have many of the people who write to me about returning to skating, I got back most of the old skills, and then some. (I'll never try a loop again. Lost my nerve.) When I started skating again I had weird deficits-- back crossovers were as strong as ever, but I couldn't do the forward ones to save my life. Those I had to relearn.

When I skated as a young woman, I never knew about USFSA (as it was then), there literally was no ISI, and I had no clue about tests whatsoever, because no one ever mentioned them to us. We just moved from skill to skill. So I started testing from scratch, as an adult.

Many skaters, however, come back to skating having racked up the tests, and want to know if those tests still "count."

Short answer-- yes.  It's like your college degree. Doesn't matter if you got a degree in art and are now a salesperson. You still get to brag about the art degree. But first you have to prove you have the credential.

If you have an old ISI test, and can prove it (i.e. you have the paperwork), you're good to go at that level. However, until a few years ago when they went digital, ISI was farily notorious for its poor record-keeping, and it was hard to get proof of older credentials. I know several people who had to retest because ISI did not have their records (or the rink had never processed it).

If you want to compete now at a lower level than what you tested as a child or teen, you're in luck with ISI. Adult skaters over 21 years old can fill out an "Affidavit for Test Level" review and once approved, their test level can be lowered for what they can now accomplish.  The skater or coach can request the form from the ISI office.

For USFS you always compete at your tested level, but they are Kind To Adults. There are several permutations that equal various levels of testing, and they divide by age where they have enough enrollment, as well as doing mixed levels. USFS is also less stringent on required elements than ISI for many events. See this post to learn more about adult competition levels.

Are you a returning adult skater? How close to your childhood level are you skating?

Coach? Xan

Joanne Schneider-Farris is usin' fightin' words, by trying to draw a distinction among the various levels of "commitment" to skating professionals. While she uses the terms "coach," "pro," "instructor," and "teacher," the gist of the article seems to be that you're only a "coach" if you are a serious, full-time skating professional with competitive students.

Everyone else is "just" a teacher.

I have fought this attitude throughout my career as, yes, a skating coach.

Painting with a broad brush, Joanne's definition does not take into account the coach's own motivations, the constraints of the market she's in, or the nature of the students she is best with.

I see what she's getting at-- just being on the ice with students doesn't make you a "coach" with all the connotations of that word. But she then goes on to define the term with almost purely mechanical definitions, and by defining out anyone who doesn't have competitive students.

I did fine on two of her bullet points:

"A Figure Skating Coach Does More Than Just Teach:

• A figure skating coach is more than just a teacher: he or she is a figure skater's mentor, guide, and role model.

• A successful figure skating coach will draw figure skaters to a rink or a figure skating club".

but then, oops!

"Figure skating coaches teach lessons and manage figure skaters' lifestyles and training".

I leave their lifestyle and training alone. This is because I don't teach competitive skaters. I take beginners, special needs, and other kids that a lot of coaches turn up their noses at, especially the "coaches" (by Joanne's definition). I turn them into skaters. I can always see that moment when suddenly I'm not just that adult skater who thought she could teach figure skating. It's when Coach World Famous suddenly notices that the awkward little boy whom he wouldn't have slowed for at a stop sign looks like a skater. And starts offering me tips in the middle of my lesson.

But he's a "mentor, guide, and role model" who "draws skaters to a rink." And also "tampers with an existing coaching relationship" otherwise known as "poaching students."

So how about ethics? Do you get to call yourself a coach if you violate one of the most basic tenets of the profession? I guess so, because Joanne doesn't mention it.

Nor is there a word about credentials, which I consider the marker between a weekend teacher and a committed coach. PSA ratings and ISI judge credentials is the first thing I ask any coach about. An ethical coach takes the continuing education. That Gold at Sectionals in 1994 is great and all, and I honor you for it, but it's time to move on and get some current credentials.

Then there's this one:

"Skating Instructors and Teachers Give Group and Private Ice Skating Lessons [implied 'but'] These people may or may not also take on the skating coach role. "

Oops. That's me again, and lots of other really great coaches that I know. She goes on to talk about 5 a.m. lessons, traveling to competitions, managing the training, and yes, even what they charge. (But no guidance for us mere "teachers" on what we can charge.)

And then there's the real killer:

A Skating Instructor Can Teach Part-Time, But a Skating Coach Must Teach Full-Time:

Nail in the coffin. I do this part time. Of course I work in a market where only the most competitive coaches with the wealthiest students have a prayer of making a full time living at this, but that's just my bad luck. I don't get to call myself a coach. I'm just a teacher.

Fine. I'll wear it proudly. I'm a teacher, who has changed the lives of countless children through my love, skill, commitment and support of the sport. I guess I'll have to stop my students now when they call me, as they affectionately do, "Coach Xan."

Afraid to fall

Well, I could be snarky and tell you "get over it."

But in fact, it's perfectly rational. Falling hurts. And it's scary. Sadly, it's going to happen. You're tightrope walking on a slippery surface, after all.

In my experience, however, falling is scariest in the anticipation. Once you slip, it's in the hands of fate. What you need to do, then, is learn how to fall, and more importantly, how to overcome the fear.

The first, and most important thing, is to fall. 
I teach this the same way at both ends of the age spectrum--toddlers and adults, who tend to be the most fearful of falling. Sit down, stand up. Sit down, stand up. Sit down, stand up. You get the idea. You want that ice surface to be your friend. If you're skating with a young child, have a race-- who can get down and then back up the fastest (always let the little guy win). Pretty soon, the kids will be throwing themselves to the ice and scrambling back up and having a blast at it.

Or not
Adults are really really afraid of falling. And they have good reason to be. Most of the injuries I've seen in non-competitive skaters are adults. They fall poorly, and it's a long way down. They come in with more physical deficits, even the healthy ones. So go with that. With most adults, I leave them in their comfort zone, or just barely over it. (The comfort zone of course is a moving target. Once they get comfortable somewhere, you push the bar ever so slightly.)

Except
If you're really not going to let yourself fall deliberately, you have to do everything else the coach says. My favorite skating mantra is that doing the scary, counter-intuitive thing (bend your knee, lean into the edge, turn your shoulders not your hips) makes you safer. If you fight the design parameters of the equipment you are more likely to fall.

Learn how to fall well
Tuck and roll. You want to hit the soft tissue, not the hard stuff. This means chin to chest, hands to tummy, curl your back, hip to the ice. It's better to fall in motion rather than from standing because a lot of the energy will go into the slide instead of your kneecap. Never ever catch yourself on your hand. Whatever position you are in, roll over when you hit the ice. You can practice this.

Do the scary thing
For adults this might mean crossovers. For kids, it's the jumping. The less you practice a skill, the more likely you are to fall when doing it. But don't attempt skills you're not trained for. If you're just learning a loop, you shouldn't be playing around with axels. If you're unsteady on a one-foot glide, what until it's solid before trying crossovers.

Safety equipment
All beginning adults should wear wrist guards. As regular readers of this blog know, I'm a big fan of head protection, in particular the Ice Halo®, basically a "stealth" helmet that just looks like a really attractive hat. Don't wear bulky kneepads--they make you stand funny and get in the way. A simple sleeve with a soft pad over the kneecap is plenty. If you're in hockey skates, especially beginners, you should have a hockey helmet.

Crying
Adults are allowed to cry (sort of). Children are not (sort of). As a coach, I need to know when a child is injured and when they're just scared. If I treat every fall like an ambulance-worthy injury, I'm helping to create the fear. If your child falls, observe her for a moment; she's probably watching you for cues-- "am I hurt?" I have a "no crying on the ice" rule-- you can't cry until you step off, then it's okay. If a student cries despite the no crying rule, I know they're hurt.

Adults need to suck it up. If you pretend you're hurt worse than you are in order to save face, I have to go with that. But you're just reinforcing your own fear if you do this. Accept the level of injury--if it's just to your pride, move on. By the end of the lesson, no one will even remember that you fell.

Try a different type of skating
Some people can't get past the fear. But that doesn't mean don't skate. It really just means don't jump. There's still hockey (nice, padded hockey), ice dance, figures, speed skating and moves. There's also just skating-- come to public and skate around. I am exasperated by people who take lessons and then refuse to learn things because they're scared. If you don't want to learn new things, don't waste everyone's time with lessons. Taking lessons implies a desire to learn new stuff. Just come and skate for fun.

I want to go to Nationals, but I'm afraid of falling
Yes, I have had people say this to me. It is a nonsense statement. If you're afraid of falling to the extent that you can't train, you have zero chance as a competitive skater. If you're a competitive skater, or even just going for the tests, You Will Fall. The vast majority of experienced skaters fall well. Training makes falling safer.

It's like anything. If you practice it a lot, you get good at it.

Self taught

I love it when my skaters try something on their own because they think it will be cool to do.

I'm less sanguine when they insist on continuing to do it wrong (or worse, when someone barely above their level has taught it to them incorrectly).

Trying things out, believe it or not, is a great way to overcome fear. Adults in particular are not going to try something they feel incapable of doing, so it's self-limiting. Kids need to have fun. But then there's this problem, sent by a reader:

There was a skater who taught herself the Bronze Moves, and she wonders why she hasn't passed it the two times she's tested. She taught herself stuff and thinks she can be her own coach. I've seen other adult skaters try and teach themselves things. It hurts them in the long run usually.

If you are trying to do it by the book, and go through testing, you need a coach. Period. There are very minute and specific "common errors" and proper execution that judges are looking for. It's the rare self-taught skater who is able to overcome or execute these properly, if for no other reason than that no one is watching them, so they can't see what they're doing wrong.

Higher level skills, including moves, but especially jumps, should be learned under expert advice because of the potential for injury. I have a very gifted young student right now, who always wants to do the next thing; a lot of her lessons right now are focused on making her remember the safe way to do the skills she wants to do.

In the long run, though (even in the short run), teaching yourself complex skills is, as I say, self-limiting. Someone who hasn't done the work of learning edges and proper upper body control simply is not going to be able to teach themselves the higher level skills. And if they try to test, it will catch up with them quickly.

What have you taught yourself to do? Did you figure it out properly on your own, or did a coach have to fix it?

I'm jealous of my daughter's coach

The title was a phrase from the keyword search, but I could immediately relate.

I raised both a high level skater, my daughter, and a high level musician, my son. Never for a moment did I ever feel competitive with my son's orchestra directors or piano teachers. But I confess that I sometimes felt usurped by my daughter's figure skating coach.

What is it about the coaching relationship that makes it so different and so special? How do parents cede the control over this relationship to a stranger?

The sport's physical and emotional demands and the safety concerns compel the student to endow the coach with a significant level of trust. Because of this, the coaching relationship is a deep bond, nearly parental in its intensity. It is not just a trope to say that I love my students.

The coach often represents a child's first emotionally intense relationship outside the family unit. And a coach has access to the child that other beloved adults--teachers, soccer coaches, etc.-- do not. They have a lot of one-on-one time, and a shared knowledge and culture that excludes the parent.

It's insultingly easy, on the other hand, for a young student to leave a coach. I know that I've had students who loved me very much--who cried when I left, or their parents moved them. The first couple of times you see them after, they throw themselves in your arms. In a month, it's "Oh hi Xan."

It's hard to remember down in the trenches that you do eventually climb out of it. Even highly successful competitive skaters will eventually leave the coach; careers end after all, or move into a phase where a coach is occasional, or even superfluous. The coach eventually becomes a friend. But there you will still be, still the parent; the bond that need not ever be broken.

Have you ever been jealous of your child's coach?