Final Basketball Thoughts

Basketball season is over, and I have a few stuttering-related thoughts on it … and what I’m thinking for the next coaching experience … I previously wrote about coaching fourth grade boys basketball here and here.

  1. At the end of the season, my co-coach printed up awards for each of the kids, made a little speech at the post-season party (at a parent’s house) and handed them out. I didn’t know he was going to do this, and didn’t offer up any words while he was doing this. The kids and parents were happy to get the team awards, so if I’m a coach for another sport, I think it’s something I’d want to do. I think if I wrote a little script and practiced it a few times, I could pull it off without any issues. I might get stuck on the names, but instead of focusing on that, I’ll focus on my breathing, standing up straight, making eye contact, and projecting to the back of the room.
  2. After each game, my co-coach would gather the players around and talk about the one thing we did well, and one thing we could improve on. I need to have a think about this. I saw some of the other coaches doing this as well. I think I’d have to really think about the message and make sure it’s clear when I’m conveying it.
  3. Over communication is definitely key. Sending out e-mails to the parents, being clear on what the schedule would be and what they needed to do certainly made life easier. We had a few times when people didn’t show up on time, but overall it wasn’t too bad. Re-iterating what was said in an e-mail after practice also helped.
  4. Volunteering to coach was a simple and small thing — and it made a huge, huge difference in terms of my confidence. To go back to the stuttering angle — I spoke and didn’t die. I also learned all the simple things that I wrote about above — how to organize, how to direct, and how to keep kids engaged.

I wrote before that if my daughter wants to sing up for softball, I’d coach. Well, that didn’t happen. She wants to do soccer instead. And my other son wants to do soccer as well. I’ll try to do both since they need volunteers.

Before, when I didn’t accept my stuttering (as much) I would have run from these things. I’m not saying I’m running toward them now, but I’m walking. I’m still choosing to engage on my own terms.

I think it’s important to write about these things because many people may not know what they’re getting into, and they shy away from it because they think their stuttering will just take over. It won’t. And even if you ask someone (who doesn’t stutter) what they got out of it, their experience will be totally different than yours.

Moving on quickly

I had to make a phone call first thing Monday morning at work. I thought about what I wanted to say, what point I wanted to get across. The good news was that I was calling someone at our own company. I’m pretty sure my name showed up on her phone. But still. Basically a cold call.

I was a stuttering mess. She didn’t say anything about the stuttering at all. I slowly made my way through the information. I tried not to get frustrated since I was doing so badly. But the good thing was that she remained professional about everything.

I needed a minute after to just take a deep breath. I consciously decided not to let it affect the rest of my day. I knew it was just a bad moment — cold call, phone, etc.,

Then someone came by my cubicle.

I had to ask him something about the same project. This is someone who I talk to frequently and have a friendly rapport with. I was still feeling the hangover from stuttering and having a hard time with my words. But I kept talking, and he kept listening. I slowed down a little to catch my breath. And thought about breathing. I took a breath and then let the words run out. And I did it again. And again. And the stuttering started to melt away, and I got back to what I’m used to with closer associates.

By the time we were done, I once again had gotten my point across. And I had completely forgotten about the phone call from earlier.

Forgetting the pressure

My wife and I had an appointment earlier last week with an immigration officer. It was an official interview, something that would decide status. We knew about this for several weeks, so I had time to gather all the necessary documents.

I didn’t know exactly what to expect other than maybe having to tell the story of what we had been doing overseas and how the status had changed.

I consciously decided not to worry about my speech. In the past, I would have gone through every thing that could have been said, everything that I could have said, thought about all the words, all the combinations, all the avoidances …This time, no. Just deal with it when it came.

I was a stuttering mess. It was on camera and all that. It was official and in a small office.  But of course it was on the usual stuff — name, DOB, kids and their DOBs. Stuttered through it all. The immigration guy didn’t say anything, simply smiled and continued on. I got through my part, and she got through hers, and things were approved.

I’m glad I didn’t waste energy worrying. Sure, I stuttered a lot, but I didn’t die. I got the information across.

Talking to talk

This morning I went for my quarterly botox appointment. This is always less than fun. I mean, it’s a bunch of needle sticks to the face. A very tiny, skinny needle. But still. It doesn’t hurt necessarily, but it’s just uncomfortable.

Anyway, the point is that I usually have problems talking to strangers … just to talk. And no, my doctor isn’t necessarily a “stranger” because I’ve seen her a few times now, but still. Not very often. Normally when I go to the doctor I don’t talk that much. Or when I go for any procedure (donating blood) there’s not too much chitchat. But my botox doc is very open and nice, so it’s easy to talk to her about what’s going on with my face and a few other things in life.

So she started sticking me with needles while chatting, asking me about the kids. I kept on talking as much as possible. Nothing hard to say, but there was some stuttering. But the talking definitely kept my mind off the needle getting stuck in my face. And she didn’t mess around, one part of my face to the next, quickly and efficiently. Also helpful.

There are people who talk when they’re nervous or want to kill time or just … talk to talk. I’m not like that, and I’d say very few people who stutter are. But sometimes it helps. Stuttering isn’t always as painful as having an actual medical procedure!

Stuttering at Starbucks

So this happened a few days ago:

A Starbucks barista has been suspended for allegedly ‘humiliating’ a man with a stammer by penning his name as ‘RRR… ichard’ on his takeout cup. Richard Procter says his speech impediment was openly mocked by the worker, who wrote the cruel jibe round the lip of the container – even adding an ellipsis to show how the company owner struggles to say his name.

 

Ah, Starbucks. My delicious nemesis. I was thinking how I’d react if this happened to me. I think I’d also be plenty pissed. It’s enough that I get that smile or laugh (at Starbucks and others) whenever I’m trying to stutter out my name. It honestly hasn’t been too bad the past few times — either they haven’t asked me for my name or I’ve been able to push it out with brute force. Or I just spell it out for them from the get-go.

I don’t think I’d want any sort of compensation — drinks or otherwise — from this, though. I’d just want to know that they’re going to change their training program to address it. And want to see it documented and follow up.

I see that fluent folks are giving false names because they’re tired and/or annoyed by the name policy. What a luxury! I suppose I could always do that, too. But that really feels like surrounding to my stutter. I might as well just face it. I mean, if I’m going to treat myself like that, I might as well work for it.

Curious about Stuttering

Am I curious because I was just born that way, or did stuttering have something to do with it?

A close friend recently pointed out to me that I am very curious and take great interest in things I don’t know much about as they are explained or shown to me. And that it’s a genuine interest. Yes, it certainly is.

I think back to when I was young, getting absorbed in books for hours and hours. And not just fiction (we’d be given 1″ thick books with all the year’s stories in them, and I’d eat through it in a week). I’d go to the library and check out books on airplanes (Time Life Series!) and read them again and again.

Given the stuttering, I think it’s to be expected, really. It’s a choice — read, or have to … talk with people. I’ll choose the former every time, thank you very much.

But as I grew older, the approach changed. I didn’t have to rely on reading. I learned that I could ask open-ended questions and just let people talk, occasionally prodding them with another query. And if the tables were turned, I could give short to medium answers which always seemed satisfactory. Even if the listener wanted an essay out of me, I’d avoid it all costs. So now it’s become the norm, and something I actually enjoy — conversations are maybe not 50/50, but I do enjoy prodding and poking and finding out more. And I’m getting better at asking all of my questions — not just the ones I can say fluently.

Stuttering in the Cold

It’s getting cold here in Indiana. We have this townhouse, and it’s tall and narrow. So on the ground floor it’s always a lot colder. The air gets in under the front door and a little bit on the sides. There’s a simple and cheap solution to this. One of those long stuffed tubes. It’s like a weighted sock, really. You sit it there, and it keeps the cold out. Easy.

So let’s go to Bed Bath and Beyond for this. Makes sense that they would have it. And that part way through December they’d have them out. Walking, scanning, dismissing sections. A store that’s not that busy, so employees around. I’m back with my old habit of walking a lot and talking not at all. My oldest son is with me, and after the first lap, he thinks maybe they don’t have it. After the second, he thinks we should ask someone.

Alright. Let’s. Ask.

I find an employee easily and ask him if they’ve got the tube thingy. That goes at the bottom of a door. I don’t stutter. I was worried, of course because I didn’t really know what anybody really calls this thing. He instantly knew what I was talking about. And of course — of course — they don’t have them out yet. He goes to the back and gets one for us. He says they’re not put out yet, but will be soon.

So had I not asked anybody, I never would have found it. I would have probably gone to another store (Kohls?) or just online and then waited.

But now we have it, and it’s keeping the temperature in check.

Stuttering Small Business

(The nice thing about close friends is that they remind you that you haven’t posted in a month … so no, I didn’t actually push publish on this post as I thought I had!)

I hope everybody had a lovely holiday. Filled with family time and stuttering. I did! But it wasn’t all that bad. I spent the holidays in Pennsylvania with family and friends. There’s a really nice bike shop there, and despite the cold weather, I brought my bike along for at least a ride or two. (I did two — and they were under an hour each. At least I got out!)

I learned that I’m not the biggest fan of cold weather riding. Temperatures below 50 confound me. You put too much on or not enough. Your top is too warm, and your legs are cold. You go faster which makes more wind and more cold. You go slow, and well, going slow sucks, too.

Back to the bike shop. Small business. Small business Saturday! (but this isn’t directly about that.) I knew that I wanted to ride, but I also knew I didn’t have a long-sleeved jersey or tights to wear. So off to this shop where I had bought kit before. I got the best, most patient help before, and I wanted it again.

I wasn’t disappointed.

The thing about stuttering is that while there’s a “base” of stuttering — just carrying on with our daily lives — there’s often outside influence that … doesn’t exactly help. Pushy sales people. Being unsure of yourself. Feeling rushed.

All this melted away in this store. I could remember to breathe. I could ask questions, and there was just minutes and minutes of patience. Answering questions, pulling things off the shelf and hangers. She wasn’t in a hurry to do something else, and I wanted to take my time and buy the right thing. I thought of questions — and then just asked them. When I was about to make a final decision on something, I said, “is this the only brand for that?” And it turned out no, there was something else, and I tried that on as well, ultimately buying it.

I know every shopping experience won’t be like this. In person or on the phone. But I did want to stop, breathe, and give thanks for this one exchange that made me think less about stuttering and more about getting exactly what I wanted — by communicating.

Stuttering and Politics

I’ve been thinking a lot today about the election and the past few months, and the media, and the polls, and the enormous support that came through for our next president. I thought about how I was lulled into thinking it’d go one way and it really didn’t. I thought it might even be a landslide, an early night.

But what do I know? 
Well, that’s the point. What do I know? And how do I know it? I stutter, so I’m inclined not to talk as much to people. To really dig in, to get into the details. To not only make small talk, but then get into taboo topics like politics and religion.

That means I have my bubble. My immediate family (I can influence my kids, so what) and then on facebook a lot of like-minded friends who I grew up with or have gone to college with. We pass around the same stories and memes and whatever else. Read the same polls. I assume they are going through the same things I’m going through, and feeling the same things.

But they’re obviously not.

What one person hears and what they think isn’t what I hear or think. Could we talk about it? Yeah, we could, but again, there’s distance, frequency and then the stuttering. And why would I want to talk politics on the phone with someone who I haven’t talked to in months? There are other things to catch up on.

What’s outside of my bubble? Different experiences, different influences. If I talk to a close friend, they might eventually tell me about a parent who’s recently lost a job or is going through a medical issue. They might tell me about a college roommate who is struggling. And these points have influence. They become more important. They take precedence over character and get to the heart of one’s station in America.

But again, that’s a lot of talking. And I’m inclined to be more comfortable (and more fluent) with “the choir.” So when you tell me about the majority of Americans who are frustrated and angry, I don’t have a direct connection. I may read it here and there, but it’s not my daily.

It’s easy for me to be dismissive about our next president based on his behavior thus far. But what I really should be doing is reaching out to others, stuttering-be-damned and find out what’s making them so dismissive about politics as usual.

Walking and talking

The other day was my daughter’s birthday. In order to continue brainwashing her regarding her love for bicycles, I thought I ought to get her a little basket for her bike. That way she can tote around … stuff.

Anyway, there’s a larger bike store here in town, and when I searched them up online to find out their hours, I found out they had a store right in the city. Within walking distance of my office. (The main store is a longer drive away and near where we live. Well, sort of.)

On their site, they show products and what store they are available in. The cute little basket showed availability in both the farther away and city store. I had a sneaking suspicion though that I’d be disappointed — they probably didn’t have it downtown. So, I could have called them and asked them. But here’s the thing — I needed the exercise. The store is a little over a mile walk away.

Is this avoiding? I don’t think so. I was going to walk there even if they didn’t have it just to see what it was all about. And it was such a nice day anyway.

Am I adding this to my pile of uncalled people, restaurants and other businesses? No. Not at all. I’ll write about that more tomorrow — sucking it up and making a call without completely freaking out about it.

So in the end I did walk downtown to the bike shop for my daughter’s basket. And … they didn’t have it.

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