Every soccer practice begins with the boys racing to a nearby fence and back, a distance of about 200m. One time earlier in the season, Jackson told me he won the race but I explained he was disqualified (by me, the coach didn't say anything) since he turned back before actually making the fence. To Jackson's credit, he has not short-cut the run since.
At the second to last practice, he won the race after the coach disqualified half the team, including several of the fastest runners, for not going all the way to the fence. This time the coach made the short-cutters re-run the warm-up.
Driving to the last practice, Jackson told me he was going to win the race -- something he has never done against a full field of his teammates. Hoping to head-off disappointment, I told him that trying his hardest was what was important and the result would be what the result would be (besides, it's currently en vogue in parenting literature to praise the effort rather than the result).
I watch intently as the coach sends the boys off on their warm-up run. Jackson doesn't have a good starting position, but by 1/4 way he is in the lead. He's first to reach the fence. At about the 3/4 mark, one of his challengers stumbles and falls. It's a two man race at that point and Jackson has a sizable lead, but you can see he is tiring and his teammate is gaining. But Jackson keeps his feet and keeps going and crosses the finish line several strides ahead.
On the car ride home from practice, I casually asked Jackson what he liked about the practice, and he started gushing about winning the race. After he finished, I told him how proud I was of his effort in the race and that good things often happen when we try hard.
Jackson's response: "so...can I get an extra cookie after dinner?"
My response: (chuckle) "good timing, but, no, I think winning the race was reward enough"
No comments:
Post a Comment