Pivotal Moments in Matthew House's Life: Jump Rope Team
The Jump Rope Team
Recently, when my former P.E. teacher, Robbie O'Brien, liked my Facebook status about having had a P.E. tutor, I was reminded of something very significant. It's been more than 20 years since I last saw Mrs. O'Brien, but she did something for me when I was in fourth or fifth grade that made an enormous difference in my life.
I wasn’t especially agile or athletic as a child – I’m still not, but I wasn’t then, either -- and I was always small for my age until high school. I tried out for the jump rope team the first year St. Anthony School had one. Although I did my best to make the jump rope team, I didn't expect that I would. I couldn't climb a rope -- still can't. I couldn't do a chin-up -- still can't -- well, maybe if you put a cheesecake just above the bar.
I was smart and well-liked; that was enough recognition for me. I didn't need anything athletic to feel "whole." And yet, Mrs. O'Brien saw something in me that I didn’t see. To this day, I am far from sure I was worthy of that spot, but it wasn’t up to me. I’m glad Mrs. O thought I deserved it.
My command to myself: “Just don’t screw up.” My performance on the team was underwhelming. I was like the 12th guy on an NBA team or the 25th guy on an MLB team. When we designed our routines, my so-called tricks were far from special.
Now, more than two decades later, I can remember only one of the tricks, and I wouldn’t be caught dead demonstrating it. That aside, let me tell you what that experience did for me. It showed me that there was a part of me that I did not know existed. The smart kid might have some athletic ability as well. I was never going to be a star athlete; I knew that. But the fact that I could do something athletic that required enough skill to be selected for a team that others also wanted to join but could not – that was special and unfamiliar.
That same year, I began to collect baseball cards. I don’t know whether there is a connection between the two, but being chosen for the jump rope team very likely could have sparked my interest in other sports-related things. Now, baseball is my favorite sport. With few exceptions, every afternoon or evening from early March through late October, I watch a baseball game. An entire room of my office features baseball décor, and my bedroom closet houses more baseball t-shirts than I care to admit. If Mrs. O’Brien’s faith in me had any part in kindling my interest in sports, the good folks at Amazon and Fanatics.com have her to thank for my contribution to their bottom line.
Whether Mrs. O’Brien made me a baseball fan, I don’t know. But I do know that she made me someone who is now hard-wired to look for the rough diamonds. For my entire adult life, I have taught and tutored teenagers (ß say that five times fast). In every academic environment, whether it was my own classroom or someone else’s in which I was assisting, I have always gravitated toward the low achievers. I decided if Mrs. O’Brien could make an athlete out of me (downright miraculous of her), I could make a scholar out of almost anyone.
For more than a decade, I’ve tried to do just that. If you go down my Facebook friends list, you’ll find at least 45 former (and a few current) teenagers to whom I have passed along what Mrs. O’Brien gave me so many years ago. Most have had one thing in common: They were among the most distracted/disruptive kids in class, the least confident, or both.
At our end-of-year school assembly in Mrs. O’Brien’s last year as our P.E. teacher, I remember she acknowledged me by name for something. I’m sorry to say I don’t remember her exact words. I just know the sentence began “Before I leave St. Anthony,” and included my name. I remember realizing, even at an age no older than 10, that what was being said was very special. I don’t remember the exact words, but as long as I live, I will never forget the way that tribute made me feel.
It is truly astounding what one person’s faith in me has spawned. Thank you, Robbie, from the bottom of my heart. I will do my best to honor your confidence by inspiring as many students as I can.
Recently, when my former P.E. teacher, Robbie O'Brien, liked my Facebook status about having had a P.E. tutor, I was reminded of something very significant. It's been more than 20 years since I last saw Mrs. O'Brien, but she did something for me when I was in fourth or fifth grade that made an enormous difference in my life.
I wasn’t especially agile or athletic as a child – I’m still not, but I wasn’t then, either -- and I was always small for my age until high school. I tried out for the jump rope team the first year St. Anthony School had one. Although I did my best to make the jump rope team, I didn't expect that I would. I couldn't climb a rope -- still can't. I couldn't do a chin-up -- still can't -- well, maybe if you put a cheesecake just above the bar.
I was smart and well-liked; that was enough recognition for me. I didn't need anything athletic to feel "whole." And yet, Mrs. O'Brien saw something in me that I didn’t see. To this day, I am far from sure I was worthy of that spot, but it wasn’t up to me. I’m glad Mrs. O thought I deserved it.
My command to myself: “Just don’t screw up.” My performance on the team was underwhelming. I was like the 12th guy on an NBA team or the 25th guy on an MLB team. When we designed our routines, my so-called tricks were far from special.
Now, more than two decades later, I can remember only one of the tricks, and I wouldn’t be caught dead demonstrating it. That aside, let me tell you what that experience did for me. It showed me that there was a part of me that I did not know existed. The smart kid might have some athletic ability as well. I was never going to be a star athlete; I knew that. But the fact that I could do something athletic that required enough skill to be selected for a team that others also wanted to join but could not – that was special and unfamiliar.
That same year, I began to collect baseball cards. I don’t know whether there is a connection between the two, but being chosen for the jump rope team very likely could have sparked my interest in other sports-related things. Now, baseball is my favorite sport. With few exceptions, every afternoon or evening from early March through late October, I watch a baseball game. An entire room of my office features baseball décor, and my bedroom closet houses more baseball t-shirts than I care to admit. If Mrs. O’Brien’s faith in me had any part in kindling my interest in sports, the good folks at Amazon and Fanatics.com have her to thank for my contribution to their bottom line.
Whether Mrs. O’Brien made me a baseball fan, I don’t know. But I do know that she made me someone who is now hard-wired to look for the rough diamonds. For my entire adult life, I have taught and tutored teenagers (ß say that five times fast). In every academic environment, whether it was my own classroom or someone else’s in which I was assisting, I have always gravitated toward the low achievers. I decided if Mrs. O’Brien could make an athlete out of me (downright miraculous of her), I could make a scholar out of almost anyone.
For more than a decade, I’ve tried to do just that. If you go down my Facebook friends list, you’ll find at least 45 former (and a few current) teenagers to whom I have passed along what Mrs. O’Brien gave me so many years ago. Most have had one thing in common: They were among the most distracted/disruptive kids in class, the least confident, or both.
At our end-of-year school assembly in Mrs. O’Brien’s last year as our P.E. teacher, I remember she acknowledged me by name for something. I’m sorry to say I don’t remember her exact words. I just know the sentence began “Before I leave St. Anthony,” and included my name. I remember realizing, even at an age no older than 10, that what was being said was very special. I don’t remember the exact words, but as long as I live, I will never forget the way that tribute made me feel.
It is truly astounding what one person’s faith in me has spawned. Thank you, Robbie, from the bottom of my heart. I will do my best to honor your confidence by inspiring as many students as I can.