Seeing Her Eyes Dance

Over the Labor Day weekend, I got the chance to enjoy one of my few diversions from work--golf. Although I am by no means an accomplished linkster, and at times I find the game challenges my patience, I still enjoy the open air and relaxation I feel when on the course. Many weekends, I go out either early in the morning or late in the evening and play alone. Although my wife thinks it sounds like the most boring of all recreational activities, I actually treasure the solitude. It gives me an opportunity to reflect on the day, collect my thoughts, and no matter how high the score, I always come home rejuvenated.

Although I do enjoy the time alone, I have spent the past couple of years trying to persuade my 10 and 8 year old daughters to take up the game. I thought it would be a great opportunity for us to spend some quality time together, and besides, golf is becoming a necessary skill in today's business world.

I have tried on numerous occasions to take the girls with me to play a few holes, and when they couldn't think of anything better to do, they would come along for the ride...literally! I mean, the only thing they were really interested in was driving the cart. Oh, they might swing a couple of times on the first hole, and maybe try a putt or two on the second hole, but by the third hole it was all about which of them would get to sit on dad's lap and drive the cart.

This weekend, I summoned all my parenting skills and decided to divide and conquer. I took my 8 year old on Sunday and my 10 year old on Monday. My youngest and I had a great time, and she did last for about four holes before deciding that trying to give dad whiplash was much more fun than trying to hit a 7 iron out of the rough.

On Labor Day, my oldest and I went out to play. She is competitive and can become frustrated when she can't do something well, which is why she has never had the patience for golf. After a few swings and misses, she is usually ready to battle her sister for that treasured seat on dad's lap to drive. However, today was different.

When she was warming up on the first hole, I saw something in her swing. We spent the next five minutes taking practice swings and concentrating on fixing that flaw. We then pulled out a couple of practice whiffle balls and she took a few swings. She was so excited that I didn't even get to tee off before we headed to the women's tee. She then teed it up; took a couple of practice swings; then proceeded to drive it about 125 yards right down the middle.

I will never forget the look in her eyes as she turned to me with her mouth agape. I swear that her eyes literally danced. Although she didn't hit every shot that well, she played all nine holes with a newfound energy and confidence. Upon completion of the round, her first question was when we could play again.

After we got home, and the kids went to bed, I realized that I was probably as excited and fulfilled as she was. Not because I think she is going to be golf prodigy...I know better. Rather, I was excited because I knew I had played a part in "making her eyes dance". I played a part in her having an "a-ha moment". I played a part in her learning something new.

By this time, you are probably wondering how this relates to education?

At the beginning of the school year, I talked to the faculty and staff about the immense power and influence teachers have on the lives of their students. Teachers have the ability to "make their eyes dance" each and every day. As an administrator, that is the part of education I desperately miss. I miss seeing the looks on my students' faces when they finally get it. I miss working with struggling students after school to help them have their "a-ha" moments. I miss watching their self-confidence grow each and every day they are in class. In short, I miss "seeing their eyes dance."

Our challenge as educators is to create as many opportunities as possible to "see their eyes dance", and to never grow tired of watching it happen. I can't think of any other profession as vital and fulfilling as that of our teachers.