Redshirt

In a few years, "redshirt" will apply to freshman athletes at the school she goes to.

But for now, after watching enough Star Trek TOS reruns, "redshirt" means a person for whom tomorrow may not come.

...and another generational bridge is built.

Unintended Lessons

I expected her first swim meet would be a learning experience for her: how it all works, where to find your results, getting a taste for competition, and above all else making sure not to miss an event.

But her biggest learning experience? How to function at a swim meet at 8a after staying up until 2a at a friend's slumber party. That will come in handy throughout her life.

All For One

Her final swim lesson was the same as all of her other lessons. Streamlined kicks. Freestyle laps. One-armed backstroke. An IM. And dad on the sidelines giving her signals (kick! big arms! reach!) and smiles (jazz hands! thumbs up!)

It was like all the other lessons, but for the fact that it was her final swim lesson. She needs to move on to a team - endurance and meets - to develop further.

It is time. For both of us.

Going Solo

Music competitions haven't changed much over the years. If you're performing in a single event, you get there an hour or so before your scheduled performance time, find the rehearsal room and loosen up. You run through your solo a few times, not because you're going to get any better, but to get into the rhythm of the piece. You watch the clock and look out for people you know. Then you head up to the performance room. Compared to the chaos in the hallways and the practice room, the performance room is nearly deserted and quiet. It's running a little bit behind schedule. Your performance lasts only a few minutes. The judge doesn't interact with you beyond a few statements and gives no immediate feedback. You say your "thank yous" and you nervously wait for the results to be posted (always twice longer than expected).

The written feedback is more verbose these days, and there are more volunteers providing logistical support to get the right kids in the right rooms at the right time, as there seem to be a lot more children playing solos than before. But otherwise, it's the same as it always was. And the important stuff hasn't changed: a good accompanist follows the soloist, a good judge recognizes technique even through the nervousness of the performer.

Once you get your result, you go home, with the rest of the weekend to bask in the glory of a few minutes good work, or stew in the disappointment of a few minutes bad work. Assuming you're not eligible for a state-wide competition, you're left only to speculate on the music you might play the following year: the disdain at having to play the same class of difficulty if you didn't score a top mark this time round, or the excitement of moving to a higher class if you did.

The award you get for your performance is only a small medal indicating the class of difficulty and the score achieved (I, II or III). It is small, but it is meaningful. Unlike all those participation awards, this one is truly earned, and reflective of how you did on the day. No matter how you scored, that "few minutes of work" is a reflection of you, your skill, and how well prepared you were on the day.

It's common practice to pin your music awards inside your instrument case. The more performances you give, the more hardware you'll have to pinned in the case. After a few years, it can look pretty impressive. While there's something to be said for pride in achievement, it's best if those sit on a shelf somewhere. In music, as in a lot of life, you're only as good as your next performance, not your last.

She did well on the day, earning a I in her first solo competition. Hopefully, not her last.

21st Century Problems

The problems kids face with school and friends have been around for generations. Some are so well established - first breakup, first all-night study cram-jam - they're rights of passage. Tech changes so quickly, she'll experience setbacks that only her generation will ever know. And I don't think we'll wax nostalgic on the first computer virus that wrecked her computer. But I do know this is the first of what will be many technology related incidents in her life. I just hope this is a learning moment, and that she learns fast.

In the Deep End

There seem to be a lot of parents who don't just want their kids to be able to swim, but want their kids to swim competitively. Maybe it's because the parents swam on team, or they got a rush watching the Olympics, or because it offers individual competitive opportunity for the kids to score some hardware for the trophy case at home.

Whatever the reason, I've seen more than a few kids moved to competitive swimming well before they've developed good mechanics. They don't effectively transfer energy into propulsion in the water. Their flip turns have all the grace of an octopus unfolding a lawn chair. They might come out of the starting blocks well, but they fade fast. Worse, the emphasis in team on endurance over mechanics reinforces the poor muscle memory of their strokes. If they ever hope to be competitive, they'll have to un-learn a lot of poor swimming mechanics - or take up a different sport entirely.

I hope she swims on team. I hope she likes the competitive aspect just as much as she likes being in the pool. But before she goes into a competitive situation, she's got to have developed the mechanics that will allow her to compete effectively. A good swimmer can become a great swimmer with refinement and endurance. A poor swimmer will never improve without mastering the fundamentals.

The Organization Girl

She's at an age when grades start to matter. That means that the stuff that needs to get done - assignments, worksheets, vocabulary words, notebooks - have to be at school when she needs them at school, and at home when she needs them at home. Frequently, they are not.

"A place for everything, and everything in its place" does not come naturally to her. We can coach her, incent her, and give her tools. We can remind her that staying on top of things is her responsibility. But as organization doesn't come naturally to her, she will have to develop the muscle memory to compensate, a defensive reaction to double check that she isn't forgetting something. As it is, she feels the disappointment borne of sloppiness, but she hasn't really experienced a major set back yet as a result. Until she does, it's likely to persist.

As a parent, own goals scored as a result of poor organization are not just irritating, they're disappointing. Of course, disappointing though they may be, they're also proof positive that the acorn doesn't fall far from the tree.