“The whiteboard…”
Shared by Breanne Smedley
I have a little bit of an obsession with the whiteboard in our gym.
It’s taller than me, wider than my outstretched arms, two-sided, and glides on wheels.
During the volleyball season, almost every square inch of real estate on that board is filled.
Goals, reminders, practice plans, diagrams of drills, player groupings, competition results.
As a visual person, I love to see everything mapped out.
It also helps to eliminate confusion and keeps our practice running faster.
I can explain a drill, players can see it on the whiteboard, and watch a demonstration on the court.
Then, when it comes time to execute, everyone is moving in unison.
There’s no: “Oh, I thought I was supposed to go here after…”
None of the infamous high school phrases, “Wait, what? I’m SO confused.”
It takes a moderate amount of time to do it this way, though.
And one day during this past season, my players got to the whiteboard and it was blank.
It was one of those days. Practice was planned, but one thing after another popped up and I didn’t have time to map everything out before practice started.
“Where’s the practice plan?” One of my players asked.
By this point in the season, they were used to the organization. Every detail of the drill, plan, and player groupings for each part of practice laid out for them.
In that moment, I had a choice.
My instinct was to tell them something along the lines of, “We’re doing it a little differently today. My plan is to not use the whiteboard.” Then proceed to explain the plan.
Preserve my players' perception that I “have it all together.”
Even the non-use of the whiteboard is by design! See!
But, I decided to tell them what was really going on.
That the day had been rough leading up to this point.
Unexpected meetings had popped up.
Charlee was being fussy and wouldn’t let me set her down for enough time to map everything out.
I was rushing to get to practice.
“I’m sorry!” I told them. “I don’t feel as prepared today as I normally do.”
Their response was empathetic.
A lot of understanding head nods, followed by,
“It’s okay!” “We forgive you!”
And even a, “It’s good to see you don’t have it together ALL the time!”
As much as I don’t like that, that player was right.
It was good for me to show that I’m human. I make mistakes. I have bad days.
My tendency is to want to cover this up.
This doesn’t lead to true connection with my players though. They crave to know that I am like them in many ways.
In the book “Culture Code: The secrets of highly successful groups,” Daniel Coyle writes:
“Exchanges of vulnerability, which we naturally tend to avoid, are the pathway through which trusting cooperation is built.”
I have realized that in my journey to become a better leader, I have to let go of the facade that I have it all together.
I have to be vulnerable.
We ended up having a great practice.
Despite a completely blank whiteboard.
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#IntegrallyRelational
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