Current Skate of Mind

The staff here at Current Skate of Mind has an announcement to make. We know this will come as great blow, so we want to be sure that our dear readers are sitting down. Ready? Here goes:

School’s out for the summer!

And by this, we mean that there will be no new CSOM installments until mid-September. We realize that this is devastating, but we offer the following consolations: 1) all those excellent archived installments (43 to be exact) which you can access in the column over to the right under “Recent Posts” or “Search by Topic” or “Archives”; 2) you can also peruse the archived postings on our funny little pet project called “Cusp of Greatness”, also accessible in the column over to the right; 3) and finally, you can enjoy all those fine postings of other internet luminaries located under “Interesting Links.”

In the meantime, you can imagine us at the beach (anxiously applying SPF 75), sipping margaritas at corner cafes, and working diligently on the greatest book ever written about the sport of figure skating.

Will we also still be coaching oodles of young prodigies? Yes.

Will we therefore still be donning scarf, mittens, and snowpants on a daily basis throughout the summer months? Yes.

Will we miss whipping up weekly installments with obsessive regularity and receiving your insta-feedback in return? Yes.

Will we be back in September with a vengeance ready to entertain, spin verbal twizzles, and elicit the occasional chuckle? Yes.

Are we enjoying referring to ourselves in the plural? Yes, obviously a little too much.

With utmost seriousness, thank you for reading, commenting, and for generally encouraging this endeavor. The response to this site has been nothing short of thrilling. 

Until we meet again in cyberland, we leave you with the most clichéd and well-meaning of poems, the one oft repeated in our world of rinks: Skate Great!

Sincerely,

Jocelyn Jane Cox and the Dedicated Staff of Current Skate of Mind

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In order to assist in a bit of market research, please take a moment to vote for your favorite CSOM posting thus far by clicking on “comments” below. Which one stands out? FYI, the installments that happen to have received the most “hits” are Review: Blades of Glory (September), Dear Adults (April) and Ice Dance: Crisis or Opportunity? (March). My personal favorite? Glossary of Falls (March). This one holds a special place in my heart at least in part because fellow coaches are still coming up to me and sharing their worst falls and defining new ones. 

And/or: please Suggest a Topic for CSOM. While I am not lacking ideas for future installments, I would greatly appreciate your input. Thank you!        

Back in January, I outlined (okay, whined about) the fact that coaching skating is “one of the coldest jobs in the universe.” Well, I’m happy to report that now it’s time to gloat.

For example, during a recent heat wave here in New York City, I found myself dialing up my non-skating friends to brag.

“Guess where I’m headed,” I said in the snotty tone of an eight year old who just got a new bike. I could envision my friend on the other end, slow-roasting in her apartment.

“Where?” she asked without interest, too hot and lethargic to actually play my little guessing game.

“Oh, just the ice rink. Yep,” I continued, “just taking my scarf and mittens over to that freezing workplace of mine.”

“Lucky,” she acknowledged, again without much enthusiasm and too overheated (or polite) to point out that I’d called to whimper about this same destination only six short months ago. After an awkward silence, she slowly said, “Look, I gotta go, I think my elbow just burst into flames.”

After we hung up, I dialed another friend to boast some more. I had a lot of time to fill since I was heading into work about four hours early.

Despite a well-meaning yet ineffectual air conditioner balanced precariously in my window, my apartment had become as hot as a sauna. As the temperature increased outside and the hot air easily climbed the five flights of stairs to my apartment, it started to seem more like an oven. When the sun rose, my “cozy” little nook started to resemble a broiler. The disturbing sizzling sound turned out to be emanating from my very own flesh.

Everything around me had looked as if it was starting to melt, kind of like the clock in that Salvador Dali painting. I was clearly becoming delirious. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t move. The fact that I didn’t even want to eat was probably the most alarming aspect of my condition. I’d basically lost the will to do anything other than stare at my ceiling.

Suddenly, I remembered that it was Monday and this meant it was time to go back to work! Though the rink is 30 miles away from where I live, I could see it with complete clarity right before my eyes, glowing like a frosty, blue oasis with angels singing in the rafters. Nirvana. I imagined staggering into the arena, aiming directly toward the ice surface then lying face-down, gradually returning to my former self.    

I know that the sport of skating has been good for me in many ways but never before has it so obviously ensured my survival. Likewise, I enjoy my job, but I’d never headed toward it with quite this much enthusiasm. Granted, getting ready was no easy feat, since my fingers had swollen to the size of sausages and I had trouble fitting my hands through my shirtsleeves. Speaking of feet, I knew there was no chance mine were going to squeeze into my skates. No matter, I had every intention of going out onto the ice barefoot, anyway.

Once in the car, with the vents blowing AC on my face, I started to revive a bit. This is when I launched into that series of braggy phone calls. Afterwards, I felt somewhat guilty about flaunting my enviable work situation and I wondered, momentarily, if I really deserved such luxury. Of course I deserve this, I quickly decided. This is exactly what I earned when I contracted frostbite, hypothermia and shattered teeth (from chattering) during those long winter months.  

Still, it didn’t really seem fair that I got to seek sanctuary while others suffered. On the street, people wiped their brows in misery. Other rink-less souls tried to take cover from the sun under awnings while their dogs panted and tried to fan themselves with their own ears.    

What if? I thought. What if I rounded everyone up and took them to the rink? Sure, I’d like to buy the world a Coke, but I’d prefer to take them ice skating. By the busload. “Hop in!” I’d beckon from the driver’s seat. “Real refreshment awaits!” Then I’d deliver them to the hot-day version of heaven on earth. And for them, if only for a few hours, everything would be okay. Well, better than okay: Cool. 

All right, I don’t own a bus and I don’t have a license to operate large vehicles. And I can’t fit more than 3.5 people in my car. Though I do have a brain, albeit modestly-sized, and I really attempted to use it the next 30 or so minutes.

What if? I continued my earlier theme. What if everyone in the universe turned off their lights and air conditioners for one day then strutted on over to their local ice rinks to beat the heat? How much energy could be conserved in this manner?  It would be kind of like the cold version of carpooling. We could call it “coldpooling.” I’m surprised Al Gore failed to mention this concept in his otherwise brilliant documentary about the sorry state of our planet called, “An Inconvenient Truth.” I’ll have to discuss this with him next time I see him. 

I’d like to point out that the general public is wrong to only associate skating with winter. In fact, it should be the exact opposite. People should be waiting in lines at ice rinks instead of smoldering away on the hot tar of amusement parks. And swimming pools? Last I checked outdoor pools adapt to the air around them rather than the reverse. Don’t even get me started on how beaches are hotplates and how lounging on them is basically grilling yourself like a piece of meat. Sunscreen works to a degree, but mix it with ocean water and what you have a salty marinade. All you can do is be sure to cook both sides evenly - I’ve learned this lesson the hard way. 

I don’t want to sound like some kind of Summer Scrooge. I just want to be part of the solution. And I know first hand how uncomfortable it is to sweat: it’s an embarrassing and rather annoying part of being human and it tends to make people irritable. Why do you think crime rates soar in the summer? As temperatures rise, tempers flare, but can’t we all just get along? Can’t we all just lace up, lock hands, and skate a few laps together?

What could diffuse gang tension better than a skating party? Or: Mad at your neighbor? Miffed at your best friend for dating your ex? Upset that your partner embezzled those funds? Instead of saying, “I’ll see you in court,” why don’t you all just come on down to the rink? Let’s just cool down, literally and figuratively.

I really like that character on the TV show, Entourage, named Ari Gold. He is an angry entertainment agent who often loses his temper. After he unleashes his vitriol, he will often embrace his victim, saying, “Let’s hug it out.” You know what I say instead? “Let’s skate it out.”

As I drove toward work, I started to fantasize about becoming some kind of grand-scale mediator, or a skating missionary, determined to bring our nation and the people of all nations together through the Gospel of Rinks. It became gradually clear to me that many of the world’s most bitter conflicts are currently taking place in hot climates. What if, I thought, What if?

Michelle Kwan, our Ambassador, tell them, tell them all that the blade is mightier than the sword! Okay, scratch that. The blade is kind of like a sword and could be used in a similar fashion so…maybe skates themselves should be taken out of this particular mission.  Maybe all these sweaty, warring factions should just come to the rink and slide around in their shoes. Perhaps we could organize a big, civilized game of…curling?     

I pulled into my parking space at the rink quite pleased with all the excellent brainstorming I’d accomplished in the name of World Peace. I was really proud of how I’d turned all that gloating into something beautiful, something larger than me, something to be shared. I vowed to hammer out the specifics of my master plan, and pass it on to others…perhaps through the written word… perhaps delivered on the wings of a flourishing little bird they call the internet.     

Fortunately, in my walk across the steamy parking lot, I temporarily came to my senses. When I opened the front door to the rink, I did not fall to my knees and cry out, “Hallelujah!” at the top of my lungs. I didn’t even lie down on the ice as I had planned or skate barefoot. I simply bundled up and taught my lessons.

Toward the end of the day, I was shivering and my toes were numb with cold. Pulling my scarf a little tighter, I gazed longingly at the sun streaming through the building’s front doors. I couldn’t wait to get back outside.

Dear 2008 Graduates (and, retroactively, graduates from years gone by), 

We have been skating together for a long time, now. Okay, really, you were skating and I was yelling, but nice-yelling just so that you could hear me over the music. The point is that we’ve laughed, we’ve learned things, and even shed a few tears. And now, I am truly upset.

How dare you graduate! The nerve of you to now go off into the world to have adventures so far away. This will be difficult for me to forgive. The worst part is that I have had to suffer this same affront many times and you have already witnessed, first hand, what this has done to me.

The fact is I have enjoyed our time together, however fleeting. It has been cool to watch you become more of yourself. Like skull cartilage gradually becomes bone, all of your traits that were a bit hazy and inconsistent when you were younger have solidified, somehow. I’d like to think that all your hours in the rink have contributed to this steady transformation. Just look at how well you skate! And how nicely you present yourself both on and off the ice! Those stories you tell: so truly eloquent!

In the last year or so, you have reported on your college visits. Amid skating technique, we have bemoaned the application process and debated school characteristics such as near vs. far, small vs. large, urban vs. country. You have shared your uncertainties and in response I have bestowed wisdumb as if my own experience is infinite when in fact it is only a slice.

Of course I am proud of all your skating and academic accomplishments but what I’m really leading up to here is that I have a rather large and scandalous confession to make:

I have been secretly hoping that you wouldn’t graduate, and as a result you wouldn’t get into college.

While I know that this would be devastating for you and your family, just think how great it would be for me! We could continue to share ice time…into eternity. We could keep everything exactly the same and, together, pretend that time isn’t marching forward, that no one - not me, not you, not your parents or mine - are growing older. I kind of thought you understood this unspoken agreement, but apparently not.

And now, here you are going off to lands only partly known where the pizza and bagels may or may not be inferior, where the living space will definitely be miniscule, the adventures limitless, and the opportunities (educational and otherwise) will be laid out for you like a buffet.

I know that you will pack your skates. I know that you will lace them up anywhere from four times to a few hundred times. But I also know that your priorities will reconfigure and that everything you are doing now (including our lessons) will in three month’s time start to seem distant, and gradually become more a part of your history than your reality.

Okay, wait a second - I have to admit something else, and I suppose this cancels out that previous confession. It isn’t really that I hoped you wouldn’t graduate, what I’ve actually been experiencing is envy. For when I hear you tell about your prom, and your graduation ceremony, and the last summer job you’ve wrangled before you leave home, I am reminded of my own excitement at your age: all the possibility and the sparkling unknowns. I remember the specific giddiness I felt while shopping for a new duvet, my very own mug, and who could forget that all-important shower caddy. It was all going to be so incredible. And, in fact, it was.

In the end, what I mainly want to say is, Bravo. Have fun. And try to appreciate every single millisecond. This latter edict, like three patterns of the Starlight Waltz or a double run through of the Senior Moves test, or 50,000 axels in a row, is of course far easier said than done. But I trust that all of your experiences thus far, the ups and downs (literally and figuratively) have rendered you a very real and thoughtful person, and that you will be able to process the upcoming experiences with a dose of perspective.

I also trust that if you have your own skating students along the way (and after all, shouldn’t you try to earn back some of that money your parents spent?), that you will please teach them to bend their knees, not push with their toes, and look up instead of constantly searching for that dollar bill they apparently dropped on the ice. Last of all, I trust that you will keep in touch. For you realize that if you go off into that future of yours and never come back to visit, I will be shattered. No pressure, though.

Seriously? This goes straight from me to you: Woo Hoo!

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Are you worried that you might be drinking too much coffee? Determine whether or not you are addict by clicking on Cusp of Greatness in the column over to the right.   

Practice makes perfect. But nobody’s perfect. So why practice?

I read this inscription on a plaque in an engraving store at the local mall when I was a teenager. I laughed out loud both because it was delightfully ludicrous and because it was a strangely defeatist notion to have on a “plaque,” of all things…perhaps it made sense for a mug or even a bumper sticker, but on something usually given as an award then proudly displayed on a shelf? Funny.

At the time, my entire life was dedicated to practice. I was training approximately five hours per day five days per week including on and off-ice work. When I wasn’t at the rink, I was studying, re-reading chapters in my Chemistry textbook two and sometimes even three times then spending the weekend poring over Transcendentalist essays too dense for me to understand at first glance.  

I wasn’t especially gifted as a skater: I was tall and not terribly aggressive. And I was definitely not a gifted Chemistry student, but by the time I was about 14 or 15 I’d figured out, with the help of my parents, my coaches, and mostly my older brother, that “moving forward”, “doing well,” and “achieving success” was dependent on how hard I worked.

I think that because this mentality has now become so ingrained in me I sometimes forget that I had to learn both the value of practice and how to go about it. I think some people (my brother, for instance) are born with “drive” and others, like me, grow into it. I come across these two kinds of skaters all the time at the rink, and probably more in the latter category than the former.

Of course, no one is perfect, and contrary to the above inscription, practice does not make perfect… but it does make you better. Every skater is starting in a certain place: she may be loaded with physical talent or she may not. But the goal is to move forward from that starting point and this requires a certain amount of repetition.

I have not done a scientific analysis of exactly how much repetition this should be. And of course it is going to vary in every situation based on age, specific skating goals, the rink schedule, and the outside commitments of both skater and family, but I can very generally and confidently say this: those who practice consistently at least to some extent in between lessons tend to improve more rapidly.  

It is essential for skaters to think through the technical concepts their coaches have provided for them, to solidify these concepts both in their minds and in their muscles. Furthermore, it is ideal for skaters to learn how to problem solve, or at the very least, to identify what problems they’re having with a certain element.

From a coach’s perspective, it is frustrating to repeat the exact same concepts week after week. Granted, certain concepts are truly physically (or sometimes mentally) difficult to apply, but many figure skating concepts are really very simple.

Say, for example, I want a skater to get her left arm up while doing forward crossovers counter-clockwise, instead of letting her left arm droop down behind her. This is not physically or mentally demanding.  It is a matter of: 1) lifting that arm up; 2) remembering to lift it up throughout the lesson; 3) practicing lifting it up outside of the lesson so that it becomes a part of “muscle memory” and no longer something that has to be consciously thought about; and 4) coming back to the lesson either the next week or very soon and demonstrating that the arm is now consistently in place. Once this unsightly case of Droopy Arm is corrected, I can go on to the next 6 (or 60 or 600) concepts.

Skating is like math. It is cumulative. When we master one set of skills we can go on to the next. Of course there’s also the whole cardiovascular aspect of things, the necessity to “over load” the muscles in order to build strength, and the necessity to generally develop the body as an athlete. (Even in the case of Droopy Arm, some shoulder and arm muscles may need to be strengthened.)       

If the skater comes to her next lesson and the next, and the arm is still drooped down, then we need keep going over this. I’ll keep demonstrating where I want the arm to be, placing her arm where I want it, and going through the same explanations I went through the first time, in the process whipping up some more analogies, perhaps having to do with beach balls, or pancakes, or manicures. The point is that I’ll be forced to use our precious lesson time to repeat something relatively easy that the skater, with dedicated repetition, could correct on her own. This means that I am basically monitoring her practice time. What our lesson has become is a form of…babysitting.

I am not always at the same sessions or rinks as my students. And even when I am, I can’t directly monitor whether they are actually practicing or not. Sometimes I ask how their practicing is going and the answers run the gamut from sheepish excuses, to a specific run-down of the practice week. However, without asking, I can usually tell if someone has practiced since our last lesson. Perhaps what we were working on last time is now better. Perhaps the student comes to the lesson with a burning question starting with the words, “I was working on (blank) and I still don’t understand…”. Or the student comes to the lesson excitedly reporting how she finally mastered (blank)!

On the flip side, maybe the student doesn’t remember the steps to the new dance we learned last week. Or doesn’t remember having learned it at all. Hmm.

So how to impart the practice of practice?

First, I suppose it’s a matter of educating skaters and parents of its importance. Without practice, skaters cannot fulfill their potential. In his excellent article in the May/June issue of Professional Skater Magazine, Bob Mock addresses the issue of what he calls “the drive-through skater.” These skaters expect to pass through the sport with minimal effort. These skaters have not yet figured out the correlation between dedication and success. For many of these skaters and their parents, frustration is mounting. But most parents have not skated and may not have participated in a sport anything like skating, so it’s incumbent on the coach to provide the “this is how it works best” information. 

Second, skaters, coaches and parents should develop a general game plan. In other words, how often can the skater consistently get to the rink? How many other lessons does the skater have and therefore how much time is left over? This will be arrived at on an individual basis, based on age, level, and other commitments of both skater and family.

The most helpful thing a parent can do in order to encourage a skating career, is to get her child on the ice, thereby creating the opportunity for the skater to practice. Parents can also help to impress upon their skaters the value of that session time, and the necessity to not take it for granted. Not that there can’t be any chitchat whatsoever, but obviously lengthy palavers over at the barriers are a huge waste of time and money. I think it is great for skating to be a social outlet (it certainly was for me), but socializing should take place on the bench before or after sessions or at sleepovers, etc.     

Third, coach and skater can develop a more specific game plan in order to organize the practice time. This may be broken down in to a certain number of repetitions of an element (ie. 15 double axel attempts) or a certain number of minutes per discipline (i.e. 20 minutes of moves in the field patterns or stroking exercises).

Finally, this practice regimen needs to be implemented. Because the skater can not be monitored at all times by the coach, and should not be monitored at all times by the parents, the skater, no matter the age (at least from the age of 7 or 8 on) should be able to take responsibility for this herself. A notebook, a calendar, or some kind of tracking grid that the skater creates can assist with this. I’ve noticed that kids like to check off lists almost as much as I do.

Of course there are the rather large issues of enforcement, and rigidity, and motivation. These could form the substance of about 8 other blogs, but suffice it to say for now that they are a matter of a coach’s personal style. Ideally, a skater will experience the benefits of practice and the proof that this works will be in the so-called pudding. Directly pointing out how practice ended up contributing to a particular success helps to demonstrate and validate the connection.      

Note that it’s important to practice correctly, i.e. with thought and applying the technique the skater has been given. It doesn’t help to repeat things incorrectly, in fact it only re-enforces the wrong movements, so it’s important for the skaters to wear that ever-sensible accessory called The Thinking Cap. Along these same lines, (and this only refers to a small subgroup of skaters) it’s possible to practice too much, i.e. to the point of stress injury, or obsession, or flat-out discouragement. Every once in a while, practice limits need to be drawn.

I’ve noticed over the years that some skaters have enough talent or aptitude to pull themselves together at the last minute, training for a few weeks or even days before a test or competition and somehow ending up with surprisingly good results. But just imagine what could happen if she’d been training diligently all along?     

Let’s face it, there are very few guarantees in life. Coaches cannot guarantee that skaters will pass a test or win a competition. But we can guarantee one thing: if you practice and do so correctly, you will get better.

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I am very interested in other coaches’ and skaters’ thoughts on the subject of practice, so please share them by clicking on Comment below.

Also, I hear it’s going to be very buggy this summer. Read some suggestions on this topic by clicking on Cusp of Greatness in the right hand column.   

Lately, in my capacity as a skating coach, it seems like I’m always on my way to a test session, coming back from a test session, or printing out applications for the next one. To be exact, I’ve coached at six test sessions in the last two months, an unusually high number for me, and it seems like I have 52 more sessions on the calendar (okay, 4.) This means that I’m often on my cell phone in my car (of course utilizing my hands-free ear contraption…except for that one time) trying to explain skating tests to my non-skating friends.

I usually say something fairly abstract like, “They are judged performances designed to determine if the skater is ready to move up to the next level.” Even as I’m saying it, I know this description falls short; it doesn’t even begin to do justice to the unique adventure that is The Test Session. So I’ve decided to work on this.

As I have mentioned here before, I am a fan of the USFS(A) testing system and how all these smaller, more manageable goals lead to larger ones. Going through all these tests as a kid may very well be the reason that I am now a proponent of the “Bit by Bit” method of approaching most projects in life, in other words, taking one thing at a time, compartmentalizing, etc. Test sessions may also be why I believe that everyone should occasionally…scare themselves {insert menacing thunder clap sound effect.}

Anyway, here are some other possible ways of describing test sessions to skating outsiders. Feel free to use any of these in your own travels:

• Test sessions are like the invisible ladders of skating. In order to climb from one rung to the next, you need written approval from two out of three supervisors. If you do not receive this majority when you first apply, you have to wait 27 days before applying again, so hold steady and pack a sandwich.
• Or: It’s kind of like tap dancing at the foot of Mt. Rushmore. The judges are made of stone (or ice) and everything you do with your feet seems to echo throughout the universe.
• Or: It’s like testifying in a Skating Court of Law. You’re the defendant, the judges are the jury, the rink is the courtroom, and instead of the Bible, you swear in on the USFS(A) Rulebook before taking “the stand.”
• Or: It’s kind of like going to the dentist. The lights are bright and you can’t really speak up for yourself (read: make excuses.) Sometimes you leave smiling and sometimes…not.
• Or: It’s kind of like getting silently interrogated by a well-coifed government agency. The primary methods of torture are extreme cold and a pack of butterflies specially trained to invade your stomach.
• Or: It’s sort of like taking the S.A.T.’s. It seems like your entire future hinges on your performance in the next few hours (or moments.) But, of course, that’s not really the case; you can always meet up with your tutor (or coach) again in order to gear up and “Retry.” Besides, though it’s hard to believe this at first, in several years time you won’t even remember your score.
• Really, test sessions are classic demonstrations of Murphy’s Law. The more prepared the club Test Chairman, the judges, the coaches, and the skaters are, the more things that seem to go wrong. Still, you’re advised to arrive ready for anything, and don’t forget to throw an extra pair of laces in your bag. 

Granted, when my students are about to step onto the ice, I don’t mention any of this, no, no, no. Instead we talk about how taking this test is not a big deal, how it’s just like any other day of practice, how it’s all about having fun. And, of course, all of this is true as well.

“Good luck!”

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Any other ideas? Please share by clicking on “comment” below.

FYI, this weekend, I went on a wild and crazy road trip of not-so-cinematic proportions down to Delaware, USA. Read all about it by clicking on Cusp of Greatness in the column over to the right.  

Sunset from 95th Floor of John Hancock Building in Chicago this past Saturday. 

Skating seems to be getting more quantitative. Ever since IJS landed in our laps, I’ve been wishing I had a Degree in Higher Math. Alas, I am more of a “word” person. Not that I have anything against numbers. In fact, I’ve always respected them quite a bit…from a distance.

Lately, I’ve noticed that there are a lot of nice things about numbers. How you can count with them, for instance. How, when you use them in order to back up what you’re trying to say, your statements can sound a lot more like objective facts. How you can maybe understand competition placements after analyzing columns of numbers on a Protocol sheet, and maybe even, with the help of numbers, control those placements more proactively in advance.  

You always hear that there is “power in numbers.” This was hit home to me in several different ways last week at the Professional Skaters Association Conference in Chicago. First of all, there were a lot of coaches in attendance: approximately 800, maybe a little more or a little less, one of the largest Conference turnouts ever.  We filled a large ballroom and according to more than one speaker up on stage, we, as a collective group, were rather intimidating.

Indeed, from where I sat, the sea of skating coaches around me was an impressive visual. I hate to sound new-age-y but it was a powerful feeling to be surrounded by that many coaches in one room. I imagined that I was somehow buoyed up by all those people with similar perspectives, experiences, schedules, frustrations, and successes…not to mention similar addictions to both coffee and fleece.

But what I’m really getting at here is the weird thing that happened this week: I started to see the world of skating and the world in general as a collection of numbers. I’m not claiming that I suddenly transformed into a Mathematician or that I became Rain Man, I’m saying that I was overcome with the strange urge to create… A Spreadsheet. I admittedly don’t know how to create a real spreadsheet (let alone flow one of these beasts onto this website), but even thinking about doing so makes me feel very “professional,” so bear with me as I present…

THE OFFICIAL CURRENT SKATE OF MIND PSA CONFERENCE “”SPREADSHEET”" (extra set of quotes intentional):

Number of Years PSA has been in existence = 70

Years Kathy Casey has been coaching = 30+

Number of days in the year we should wake up with a burning desire to be better coaches, according to the ever-entertaining Kathy Casey = “every day” a.k.a. 365

The Component Score Susie Wynne would receive on the transitional skating she demonstrated in her wonderful class called, “Simply Skated” if she were competing under the IJS system and I were a judge = 10

Grade of Execution Gale Tanger would have received for her Spiral up on stage (though we’d have to replay the video to see if she held it for 3 seconds) = +3

Number of questions Doug Haw asked Brian Orser in the brilliant segment called, “Inside the Coach’s Studio” modeled after the television show, “Inside the Actor’s Studio” = 29

Number of dizzying revolutions Brian Orser a.k.a. Mr. Triple Axel seemed to do on the floor of his living room in the classic black and white footage from when he was a toddler = approximately 35

Number of syllables in the word “momentum” as counted by Orser’s coach Doug Leigh in the video footage = 3 

Number of pillows (both functional and decorative) on the beds at the Hyatt Regency O’Hare (and thank you to my conference buddy for helping me with the calculation of this statistic) = 7

Therefore, when two beds are in the room, the total number of pillows = 14

The deadline for coaches to complete their required Coaching Educational Requirement (CER) credits = July 2010

The number of people who currently understand exactly what this entails = 4

Latest ISU Communication that will probably change after the ISU Congress in June = 1494

Number of times presenters from the judging community encouraged coaches and skaters to aim for high GOE’s rather than high Levels = at least 10

Number of “extremely diverse” conferences simultaneously being held at the Hyatt Regency O’Hare = many

Number of people wearing one or more of the following items for a particularly “intriguing” conference that shall remain nameless on this blog for fear of receiving a crazy amount of unwanted spam: leather, chains, collars, and something I can only call a “skirt-less skirt” = again, many

Number of times I heard someone ponder whether or not the aforementioned conference had a tradeshow = 5

Percentage of sport success that is “mental” according to surveys of Olympian Athletes, as presented by USOC Sport Psychologist Kirsten Peterson, Ph.D. = 50-90%

Amount of training time that athletes spend on the mental side of their sport according to Olympian Athletes as shared by Peterson= not 50-90%

Percentage of human communication that occurs through words according to Psychotherapist Frankie Perez = 7%

Percentage of communication that occurs non-verbally i.e. through body language, tone, etc = 93%

Ideal height of a leg extension for ice dance according to coach Iouri Tchesnitchenko= 80 degrees

Price of an all-event ticket for the World Championships according to a friend who worries, quite rightly, that cost is negatively affecting the skating fan base = $1000

Amount of weight gained from uncontrollable buffet grazing = No Answer

Amount of weight my suitcase mysteriously gained though I did not purchase or steal anything (I suspect foul play: invisible bricks, perhaps?) = 5 pounds

Length of the maze-like hallway leading from the hotel to the Convention Center where some of the presentations were held on the last day (and thank heaven, because I had to walk off some of that buffet-ing) = 16 miles

Pages of notes I scribbled because I am an obsessive note-taker (though in my defense, the pages of my notebook were rather small) = 56

Floor in the John Hancock Building from which my conference buddy and I watched the sun set while enjoying a post-conference drink (see picture above) = 95^th

Phone number of the JFK Jetblue baggage claim office in case they ever lose one of your bags = 7186326355

Total number of minutes they might keep you on hold over the course of 3 phone calls = 36

Number of skating blogs I’ll be able to write, thanks to all the information I gathered while on this trip (not that I was lacking for topics) = 477

TOTAL = Priceless

                                                               ***

Please add to this “spreadsheet” by clicking on comment below. 

And stay tuned. In future installments I intend to address such topics as:

Pair Skating in America: Ouch; Moves in the Meadow; The Ratings Game; Figures: Still Mourning; Youtube as Teaching Tool; Age: To Limit or Not to Limit

Finally, here is the article I wrote about the event for icenetwork: http://web.icenetwork.com/news/article.jsp?ymd=20080527&content_id=48350&vkey=ice_news 

This week, I’m flying to Chicago for the Professional Skaters Association Conference. While there, I’ll be attending all kinds of seminars and seeing coach-friends (including former competitors and mentors) from around the country. Amid packing for this event and canceling my lessons, I have been thinking about career paths. Mine has been somewhat circuitous.

I’ve mentioned in previous installments that I didn’t know I was going to become a figure skating coach. Not that I didn’t admire my own coaches growing up; becoming one just didn’t occur to me, for some reason. I am certainly glad I chose this particular path but sometimes I just have to chuckle at where I thought I’d end up instead.

For example, when I was very young, it was clear to me that I was going to be a Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader. Through watching football (and rooting for the Packers) with my dad, it was pretty obvious that the cheerleaders for the Dallas team had the best sense of style. Their outfits were a little more glamorous (covered in silver stars!), their Keds (and smiles) were a little whiter, and their cheers a little more convincing. Of course, I suppose they had a few other famous “attributes” I didn’t even notice. Perhaps my own pom poms were the wrong color scheme (red and white for the Wisconsin Badgers) and the bleachers on our front lawn were empty (okay, not even set up), but I put in some long hours honing my high kick and my woo hoo! on our driveway.

Someone, probably after asking me, the What do you want to be when you grow up? question, convinced me that becoming a Dallas Cheerleader was extremely difficult, so I decided to reconsider this path and move on to something more realistic. I figured it would be a lot easier to become a…Supermodel. After all, all you had to do was look good. You didn’t even have to do any cheers. As soon as I heard that in order to excel in this vocation you had to basically stop eating, it started to lose its appeal. I figured I’d just hold this idea in reserve as something to fall back on, just in case.

From there, I took a slight left turn toward the sister industry of Fashion Design. I pored over the beloved “Fashion Plates” set I received for my 10^th birthday. With these stencil-like panels, I created thousands of different wardrobe combinations and committed them to paper with the help of colored pencils. I’d later go on to design my skating costumes by sketching them out first on typing paper. I’d fold the sheet in half and draw my dress on one half and my brother’s costume on the other. I colored them in, down to the last detail, with that same trusty set of colored pencils.

I eventually discovered that, in order to be a Fashion Designer, you had to know how to sew. It was one thing sewing by hand and quite another when you got a sewing machine involved.  In 7^th grade Home-Economics class, I discovered that threading a sewing machine was the domestic version of Rocket Science. The few times I attempted to use my mother’s sewing machine on my own, it made a scary whirring noise. The thread flew off the spool and into a terrifying knot in the shape of a skull-and-crossbones. (Of course, now that would be a trendy fashion statement, so I was clearly way ahead of my time.)

For a while there at the beginning of college, I thought I’d be a Lawyer, wearing slick skirt-suits and winning cases like the heroine in a girl-Grisham novel. The problem with this is that I wasn’t exactly one to speak up, either in class or in almost any group scenario. And I certainly wasn’t one to debate things.

From there, illogically, I decided that I was destined to become a Professor. I suppose the distinction for me was that, in a classroom, I could “share” my ideas rather than “argue” them like I’d have to in a courtroom. I was starting to become an avid reader and I had this image of wearing eyeglasses and my hair in a bun. (Okay, well… for those of you who know me, please stop laughing, and for those of you who don’t, I guess I should admit that I usually wear glasses and my hair pulled back in a bun.) I envisioned leading my eager pupils to the shade of a campus tree, where we could gather ‘round and dissect poetry.

In fact, I did eventually go on to teach a college course, Composition 101. It happened to be a night class for adults and I was the youngest person in the classroom. When I walked in on the first night and I put my satchel on the desk (a bag I thought seemed very academic), one of the students said, “You’re our teacher?” She loaded that you’re with disdain. She felt insulted by being taught by someone younger and her attitude was contagious: when I had the nerve to assign reading and essays, I was hit and wounded by many dagger glares over the course of those three months. Right around the time that I had to determine final grades (they weren’t all that great) that would have a ripple effect on GPAs and transcripts of people 5, 10, 20 years older than me, I decided that this was probably something I’d be better suited for once I had some more life under my belt. (Oh…to be too young for something, what a hardship.) So, just like my Supermodeling, I put this on the back burner.

There was also a brief stint as an Advertising Copywriter, enjoyable enough that it created a dilemma. Around the time I started teaching group and private lessons at the rink where I am currently on staff, I was offered a position at a firm on Madison Avenue in Manhattan. I could see it: the water cooler, the Happy Hours, all that hip, creative synergy. And of course the fashion component: the high heels, the slacks, the green leather briefcase purchased at a downtown boutique. But I also envisioned something else that compelled me to turn down the offer: I could see myself coming home at night and not wanting to write my own stuff after sitting at a computer all day writing brochures and radio ads. 

Of course, this leads me to the other thing I thought I’d become. A Writer. This fantasy predated (and coincided with) all else, the Cheerleading included. In boxes at my mother’s house, there are laminated “books” I penned and illustrated. One details the adventures of a thumb (my thumbprint included.) Another is about a wounded bird my brother and I found in our backyard. Another is called “A Day in the Life of a Skater.” The protagonist, as you might imagine, is me.

Becoming a writer was probably the craziest idea of all, and, it turned out, impossible to let go of. When I flip through that ancient masterpiece about skating, it seems so obvious that I’d become a Skating Writer or a Writing Skater, but I’m glad I tried out some other vocations along the way, even if only in my mind. Besides, it occurs to me that, as a coach, you have to be a little bit of a cheerleader, a bit of a professor, and sometimes, if meeting with resistance, a bit litigious. Sometimes you have to give input on costume choices or designs, and sometimes, as an ice dance coach, you have to try and get your skaters to strut around the rink with the confidence of runway models. In this job, you get to wear many hats. Literally and figuratively.

The Sociologist in me (yes, I toyed with that for about 10 minutes in college as well) wonders how many people actually end up in the careers they youthfully identified when asked the, What do you want to be when you grow up question. Probably a handful, but it would be interesting to have some statistics…

I posed this question to some of my students today and their answers ranged from Engineer to Orthodontist to Veterinarian to Lawyer. One student, a 9 year-old blushed and answered, “Figure Skater” shyly, as if I might not think she’d qualify. Of course, I was flattered, though it should be noted that she did not say “Coach” - I suspect that her current idea of growing up doesn’t go too far beyond the age of 18. Over the next 10, 15, 20 years, I’ll have to keep track of how many of these abstract plans come to fruition.  

I also asked a few coach-friends (all of whom obviously love what they do) to share three careers they thought they were aiming for, once upon a time.

One friend answered:

1. Prima Ballerina
2. Trial Lawyer
3. Boutique Owner

Another:

1. Journalist
2. School Psychologist
3. Sports Psychologist

And a third:

1. Flight Attendant
2. Scientist
3. House Wife

And you? Whether you are skating coach or not, please share three “Careers not Chosen” by clicking on “Comment” below.

                                                                         ***

I anticipate that in next week’s installment I’ll be regaling you with my Chicago adventures.  But then again, we’ll see, life doesn’t always turn out as expected….                

It’s ice show season. Some rinks and clubs host their ice shows at the end of the summer or during the holidays, but most cook them up right about now, after the competition season winds down and before the summer schedule ramps up.

I’ve never personally made an ice show from scratch, but I’ve been an ingredient in many, observer of several, and an assistant in a few. Preparing an ice show is a gigantic undertaking, but the results are well worth it: they spice up the year’s skating buffet and once you’ve had a taste, you’re not likely to forget it.

So if you’re up for the challenge, roll up your sleeves, sharpen your knives (okay, blades), put on your goofy white chef’s hat, and fine-tune your Emeril imitation…because we’re about to kick it up a notch.   

First, chill ice rink to approximately 50 degrees, then gather the following ingredients…

Several thousand pounds of Skaters: This is the meat of the dish. For the most interesting texture, try to obtain a variety of skaters including tall, short, young, old, free range, and grain-fed. The more tender cuts are usually still wearing rental skates and the more “seasoned” variety come with freakishly deformed feet despite custom-built skates.

1 extra-bold Theme: This largely determines the flavor of this stew. The possibilities are infinite. If you’re hoping for an international fusion, go with, Skate Around the World. For more regional fare, go with These United States or Roadtrip USA. If you’re hoping to whip together something of a more seasonal nature, try Seasons of Skating or Holidays on Ice (for more on this latter theme see “Holidays on Ice” the column over to the right). Broadway and Hollywood concoctions are always a safe bet. But really, you can choose just about anything, as long as it’s somewhat recognizable to the general palate.

1 emotionally-stable Director with an iron fist: This is the head chef. Due to the complicated, stressful nature of this endeavor, he or she must be tyrannical in the kitchen. After all, without one determined leader willing to stir this all together, it would never get made.  

Several slices of music with the fat trimmed: Choices will be determined based on the theme, though only the best parts should be retained. Slices that are too large (read: too long) tend to make the skating stale and, as a result, difficult to digest. For added authenticity, the music system should break down at least once during the show, ideally prompting all the house lights to be turned on and the announcer to fill the dead air with jokes his family only tolerates to be nice. 

A generous bunch of multi-colored Costumes: These can be sewn by dedicated parents, ordered from a catalogue, or simply thrown together using items most everyone already has in their pantries. For the record, it is widely understood that the smallest skaters are best dressed as bumblebees, ladybugs, and pumpkins, though they do look cute in just about everything. Teenage girls prefer costumes that are as revealing as possible and for this reason it is far more satisfying to instead dress them in big furry costumes and large red clown wigs: they will outwardly groan and roll their eyes, but they will secretly love it. Adults usually prefer to be wrapped in black. Evening gowns with long white gloves are an excellent pairing. Ideally, there will be at least one costume malfunction, probably a detached component embarrassing the wearer and tripping another.   

A sprinkling of Props, lined up separately in the locker rooms in the order they will be added: For example, brooms work well for witches, American flags are appropriate for the Fourth of July, and wands are ideal for both princesses and fairies…the possibilities are endless. Again, dropping a prop greatly contributes to ice show authenticity, as does accidentally poking another skater in the eye.  

An abundance of Coaches, well-coddled: These will function as the sous chefs, doing a lot of the prep work in the form of choreography and general organization. They will also be the wait-staff on night of the big feast, ensuring that the ice show gets served in a relatively smooth fashion. If you are lucky and provide costuming of a not-too revealing or not-too-silly variety (after all, that was then and this is now), they may even jump into the pot themselves. Of course, the more intra-staff tension, the tastier.

A large serving of Spectators, chilled: Though the goal is to attract fans from all over the county via posters and perhaps ads in local publications, the audience will most likely be comprised of blood relations of the skaters. If you are desperate to fill the stands, you may have to pull hapless bystanders off the street and pay them to attend. As an insurance plan, it’s not a bad idea to dub pre-recorded ovation onto the end of each slice of music. Note that every great club ice show in the history of club ice shows features at least one spectator losing her footing on the metal bleachers. If the EMT has to be called in, it is simultaneously unfortunate and also yet another sign of authenticity.

Several printed Programs, slivered, collated, folded in half: At bare minimum, this is a simple menu listing what the diners are in for. More sophisticated versions include revenue-generating ads from “corporate sponsors” (a.k.a. businesses owned by skaters’ parents) or from grandparents. The standard copy for these ads generally reads: Good luck Susie! We love you! Grams and Gramps. Misprints, especially those that may have legal ramifications, add a nice little kick.

Guest skaters (optional): Though it will cost you, you can import a skater of a more “gourmet” variety from a nearby rink or from across the country. This is intended to transform your show from something more casual into haute cuisine. Of course, it’s highly likely that she’ll be sick the day of your show or slightly injured (as most elite skaters usually are), and so she won’t attempt any elements more impressive than what many of the perfectly-respectable skaters in your club can already do. 

2-4 rented Spotlights (optional): While not essential, these contribute nicely to the ambiance. They can make a mediocre ice show seem instantly more appetizing. Authenticity, here, is achieved in two ways: first, when spotlight operators lose track of  skaters so that the skaters are in darkness and the spotlight is focusing only on empty ice; second, when a skater becomes disoriented by the spotlights and aims in the wrong direction, bumping into the group of skaters behind her and creating a series of falls that demonstrate the Domino Effect. In the words of Emeril: BAM! 

A selection of wooden Stage Sets (optional): These also contribute to the setting and are most-often the product of creative bursts on the parts of a few parents, occurring usually in a garage, at the last minute. The best part is that when one of these wooden panels - say, in the shape of a large teepee for a Native American number - gets accidentally knocked down on the ice, it makes a sound similar to a gunshot. Not only will babies for miles around start to cry, everyone will jump out of their seats and look around, panicked, therefore not noticing that a young skate-wearing “papoose” is trapped under her one-dimensional house.

A pinch of Parents: Despite their other commitments, parents will assist with absolutely  every aspect of the show including gathering ingredients, sewing costumes, building sets, tracking down props, selling ads for the program, and picking up the guest skaters from the airport, etc. Frighteningly (and thankfully), they often walk around with open safety pins between pursed lips. It is important to make sure that their role remains completely unsung because this is what they have become accustomed to; any form of unexpected praise could distract them.    

1 highly-animated Announcer: This person is either a radio DJ by profession or a skating dad who wants to be one in his next life. When he talks, he inflects his words with such exaggeration that, in any other scenario, it would be quite… “grating.” His own special contribution to ice show authenticity is the mispronunciation of the names of at least three soloists and accidentally leaving the microphone on while asking his assistant how much longer this is going to “drag on.”

Several sprigs of Chaos (inevitable): You might as well just accept this particular ingredient, whisk it in, and savor it because you have no choice. In the end, it will provide the most lasting memories and fits of laughter.

Exactly 15 miracles (highly recommended): Because things tend to boil over, or burn, or remain inexplicably raw, as the day of the ice show approaches, it’s important that you try to track down this precious ingredient. You won’t find ice show miracles in any stores or even in skating catalogues, so your best bet is to just pray for them, even if you’re not the praying type.

To Prepare:  

First, set extremely valuable miracles off to the side in a tightly-sealed tupperware and hire a guard to watch over them. Memorize the passcode and secret handshake for when you need to get them.

Set timer for approximately 30 days. Add all other ingredients gradually over the course of that one hectic month.

Simmer, uncovered, on medium heat. Stir constantly during rehearsals and also during what may feel like thousands of sleepless nights. Knead your hands together with worry and rub your aching temples. You should realize that the creation of an ice show is an unwieldy though surprisingly inexact science, so while precise order and methodologies may seem important at first, they are most certainly not. In fact, there has probably never been an ice show put together without a great number of mistakes, oversights, and gaffs, for which you will of course need those aforementioned miracles.

Note that, even as late as the dress rehearsal, your ice show will look like a mound of lumpy, unappealing slop. But no worries, your dish will be ready when your timer rings, indicating that the expensive slot of ice-time you’ve rented has arrived. Your show will be ready, if for no other reason, because it has to be.

And if all else fails? There’s usually quite a delicious spread over at the club bake-sale table.  

Serves: approximately 250, give or take 100.

Bon Apetite!

                                                        ***

What did I forget? Do you know of any other variations on this recipe?  

Also, have you ever lost your wallet or had it stolen? I have some advice. Click on Cusp of Greatness over to the right.

Mother’s Day is around the corner. ‘Tis the season to count her blessings. Or try to.

I don’t think there is quite enough space on the internet to list the number of generous, selfless acts my own mother has committed on my behalf, both recently and not-as-recently, so I have decided instead to focus on something very specific. Her devotion is perfectly encapsulated in the following image (and also in the picture above, which will seem less abstract when you read the next paragraph)…

She is perched on the edge of a hotel bed leaning toward the light on the nightstand. The rest of the room is dark so that my brother and I can sleep. She has just driven several hours toward this destination, or perhaps navigated us here from an airport. She squints through her reading glasses to coax the end of a thread through the eye of a needle and then the needle through the eye of a sequin. And then another. And another.

Just as it’s difficult to guess exactly how many candies are in a glass jar, it’s impossible to say how many beads she has already sewn on this costume (or on all the ones that have come before). But she wants to finish up that last row, even though, were it missing, only she and I would know.

Through this and many other examples she has demonstrated that, where kindness is concerned, many small things add up to something far bigger.

Thank you, Mom, for making me sparkle, one bead at a time. 

                                                               ***

What about you? We’ve already addressed the legendary amounts of chauffeuring skating mamas undertake on a daily basis (see Skating Mom Shuffle/Shuttle), but what else stands out for you? Happy Mother’s Day to all the moms out there.

Also, an update: I’m probably not going to open that restaurant, after all. Check out my piece on this topic posted today on one of my favorite humor webzines, by clicking on: http://www.yankeepotroast.org/archives/2008/05/eggs_on_the_bru.html 

Finally: Do your moods seem almost entirely dependent on the weather? There is a type of depression called Seasonal Affective Disorder, the acronym of which is, appropriately, S.A.D. But I have my own theory…click on Cusp of Greatness over to the right.   

The time has come to clarify something: I am not jealous of Kristi. The word ‘jealousy’ implies a certain amount of malice and this is not at all the case. No, what I’m experiencing is definitely more like ‘envy,’ which is a far friendlier beast.  

It’s not that I dislike Kristi, it’s that I want to be Kristi. This point gets hit home to me week after week as she cuts a proverbial rug (more like: shreds it) on the not-much-of-a-contest contest show called, Dancing With the Stars. I have excitedly viewed her Foxtrot, Tango, Paso, Jive, etc. thanks to the kindly and prompt posters at youtube.com. And if you haven’t seen her on the dance floor yet, I suggest you visit youtube as well.  

Truthfully, I have not watched the other contestants, though I trust they are equally entertaining for lots of reasons. I am mainly interested in watching Kristi because we have so many things in common. Wait, scratch that, we really only have one thing in common: we’ve both once (or a million times) laced up a pair of skates. 

As a result of following her performances and the fluff footage they’ve aired over the last month or so, I have come to the conclusion that, while I have many excellent qualities, I pale in comparison to Kristi in every conceivable way. Rather than feel bad about all this, I think it’s best in these kinds of situations to just come clean, to specifically define what’s really going on in order to really own it. This is why I have compiled the following list.

                                          Ten Things I Envy about Kristi

1. Her fame has reached the point where I can refer to her without using her last name and everyone reading this knows exactly who I am talking about.
2. Her ability to dance with sharpness, agility, and nuance…and move in a way that is vastly different from how she ever did on skates. (For lack of anything else to critique, the shows’ judges have repeatedly criticized her for not demonstrating enough emotion or passion while dancing, but this is an obvious attempt on the part of the show’s writers and producers to create the illusion that she has something to improve upon.)
3. The dreamy dresses the Dancing With the Stars seamstresses have created for her, not to mention the trim body they have to work with.
4. Her opportunity to dance with the nicely-sculpted, accent-wielding specimen that is Mark Ballas.
5. Her sporty, hockey-playing husband who, at least from this distance, appears to have all his original teeth.
6. Her ability to ingest many hot dogs in one sitting. (Okay, her success on the hotdog eating circuit was an April Fool’s hoax for the show, but even knowing it isn’t true, I still can’t help myself from wanting to be able to do this, now that she’s “demonstrated” it.)
7. Her cute little daughters rendered doubly adorable by matching outfits.
8. Her dignity and the sportsman-like way she comports herself in seemingly every waking moment.
9. Her competitive drive, which I have every reason to believe would translate to success in any field she tried to enter: High finance? Basketball? Competitive juggling? She could surely master any and all of these. 
10. Oh yeah, and her Olympic Gold Medal. 

                                                              ***

Here’s something I have that Kristi (presumably) does not: a parking space in New York City. Then again, she’s probably better off. Read why by clicking on Cusp of Greatness in the column over to the right.