Yesterday, I watched my 9-year-old son experience one of those moments that stay with you as a parent, coach, and educator.
He was playing in the end-of-season baseball tournament. His team was in the semifinal game, and he had a chance to pitch in a meaningful moment. My son can be a very good pitcher. He throws hard. He works hard. When he practices with me, he looks confident, comfortable, and in control.
But sometimes, when the game starts, everything completely changes.
Ever since he was very young, he has dealt with anxiety from time to time. Most people would never know it just by watching him. On the outside, he looks like a kid playing baseball. On the inside, there are moments when he is carrying pressure, nerves, fear of failure, and the desire to be perfect.
Yesterday was one of those days.
He did not have his best game on the mound and needed to be pulled in the last inning with 2 outs because he was walking many batters. His team still won. They advanced to the championship game. From the outside, it would be easy to say, “You won, be happy.”
But that is not how he felt.
He was devastated.
He wanted to be an important piece of the win. He wanted to help his team. He wanted to be the one who came through in that moment. Instead, all he could think about was what he did wrong. He was not focused on the scoreboard. He was not focused on the fact that his team was moving on. He was focused on not being perfect and the idea of his continuing to walk batters in big games and big moments.
As his dad, it was incredibly hard to watch. I wanted to fix it. I wanted to say the perfect thing. I wanted to help him understand that one game does not define him. But in that moment, he did not need a lecture. He needed empathy. He needed patience. He needed someone to sit with him in the disappointment and remind him that he was still loved, still valued, and still capable.
And I could not stop thinking about how much this connects to education!
Every day, students walk into our schools carrying things we cannot always see.
Some students are carrying anxiety. Some are carrying pressure from home. Some are carrying fear of failure. Some are carrying the weight of trying to be perfect. Some are carrying frustration, embarrassment, insecurity, grief, anger, or confusion. Sometimes those feelings show up as shutting down. Sometimes they show up as defiance. Sometimes they show up as tears. Sometimes they show up as avoidance, attitude, perfectionism, or behavior that does not make sense on the surface.
But there is almost always more underneath.
As teachers, coaches, and school leaders, we play such a crucial role in helping students feel safe enough to be themselves. Not just academically safe, but emotionally safe. Students need to know there is at least one trusted adult they can go to when things feel heavy or “too much”. They need adults who will listen before correcting, connect before redirecting, and see the child before reacting to the behavior.
That does not mean we remove accountability. It does not mean we lower expectations. It does not mean we excuse everything.
It means we remember that kids are human first.
The same is true for athletes. A young athlete who struggles in a big moment may not need to be told to “toughen up.” They may need to learn how to breathe, reset, talk through failure, and understand that their worth is not tied to one performance.
Honestly, adults need this too.
We all want to be seen. We all want to feel valued. We all want someone to recognize when we are struggling, even when we are trying to hold it together. We all have moments when disappointment feels huge. We all need people who can offer us support without judgment.
As many educators and coaches are resting and recharging, I think this is a powerful time to reflect.
Are we creating classrooms, gyms, fields, and schools where students feel comfortable being honest about how they are doing?
Are we giving students appropriate avenues to articulate their feelings when they are dealing with challenges or failure?
Are we teaching students how to respond when things do not go their way?
Are we building relationships strong enough that students know they have someone to turn to?
Because sometimes the student who seems angry is actually embarrassed.
Sometimes the student who seems unmotivated is actually overwhelmed.
Sometimes the student who acts like they do not care actually cares so much that failure feels unbearable.
And sometimes the child who just walked five batters, missed the shot, failed the test, got corrected in class, or made a poor choice does not need us to define them by that moment.
They need us to help them through it.
That is the work.
Teaching is not just about content. Coaching is not just about mechanics. Leadership is not just about systems.
It is about people.
It is about seeing or being aware of the hidden battles.
It is about being the trusted adult who helps a child believe, “This moment was hard, but I am not broken. I can learn. I can grow. I can try again.”
That is a responsibility worth reflecting on.
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