When the Student Becomes the Teacher

Paul White's nationally distributed syndicated column, When the Student Becomes the Teacher” is published in 22 publications across seven states. This includes the following newspapers and digital publications: Midland Daily News (MI), SFGate (CA), Seattle PI (WA), Connecticut Post (CT), Laredo Morning Times (TX), Huron Daily Tribune (MI), The Telegraph (IL), and more. In this week's article, Paul shares a story from his past, and how that story can be a lesson for you moving forward, helping you see past “a bad pitch.”


“C’mon dad, it was just a bad pitch.” Our oldest son was a pretty good baseball player by the time he hit high school. All of us knew he wasn’t headed for the majors, but that wasn’t why he played the game. He loved being on the team and contributing to his teammates by always giving his best effort with all he did. There were only 3 home runs hit over the fence by freshmen that year and he hit 2 of the 3. He started out playing center field for the simple reason he could run faster than anyone else and could throw the baseball from the center field fence to home plate in the air. His coach that year was a smart cookie and reasoned that if he could toss the ball around 400 feet in the air, he ought to see if this kid could pitch. Here’s what happened next.

I had coached our sons when they first began little league, and we had a couple of 5-gallon pails of baseballs we utilized in practice. When our oldest son came home his freshman year informing us that his coach was considering using him as a pitcher, I grabbed the pails and took him to his field. I had played catcher growing up and was comfortable behind the plate. Our son got ready on the pitcher’s mound and started throwing some pitches to me with ever-increasing speed. After each pitch, we’d pause and briefly discuss what had just occurred, what he was attempting to achieve, and what he might need to change for the pitch to have been effective. After all, now that the coach had showed interest in our 15-year-old, I may just be helping the next Justin Verlander (typical parent – lol).

So, it feels like we’re really making some progress, with me taking most of the credit due to my lackluster analysis of each pitch, when our son tosses the fastest pitch he’s ever thrown right over the plate. Only problem was that it was more than 10 feet ABOVE the plate. I leaped but didn’t come close to catching it as I heard it strike the chain-link backstop. I went berserk, pummeling my son with over-analysis and attempting to use the “guilt card” to make him realize the sheer magnitude of his error. I began walking towards the pitcher’s mound to emphasize the level of my concern over what had just occurred when my son turned the tables on me. He looked me straight in the eye and said, “C’mon dad, it was just a bad pitch.” At that precise moment I realized that our son was processing what had just happened in a more mature manner than I was. He had just thrown fifty or so decent pitches before this one wild one. He was focused on the fifty while I chose to block those and focus on the one. It was the first time I recall him being the teacher and me being the student. I immediately apologized and we went on with what we had come there to achieve, but the lesson I learned that day would have a powerful impact on my life (and still does).

You see, after that day I began to wonder how many other insignificant things I had spent mental and emotional energy on attempting to figure them out, when I should have just brushed them off and moved on. How often had I let my own righteousness get the better of me, moving me backwards rather than forwards? I cringe when I think of all the things I was willing to make a big deal of when all they really were was just one bad pitch. How often did I allow over-analysis to turn into paralysis? Too often. But not since our 15-year-old son taught me a powerful lesson. That single lesson has had a powerful impact on my life. It moved me away from judging others behavior, believing that maybe they were just having a “bad pitch day” and that what I was observing didn’t represent what was really in their heart or part of their true character.

The lesson our son taught me that day helped me eliminate “fault finding” from my life strategy and adopting a method of always looking for the good in any situation and every person I encounter each day. The “C’mon dad, it was just a bad pitch” lesson also caused me to reflect on other lessons available from my parenting experience. While reflecting, I came to realize that I had re-discovered the power of patience, tolerance, acceptance, inclusion, encouragement, love, compassion, commitment, healing, and more. ALL of these lessons were presented to me through our children, but until I booked some personal thinking time in my busy life schedule, I had ignored the lessons right in front of me. Why? Because as parents we only think of our responsibility as a teacher to our children. We attempt to share as many life lessons as we can with them for the limited time we can command their attention. This thought process roadblocks our mind to the consideration of learning something from them. Guilty? I was, but not since that bad pitch day.

So,….how ‘bout YOU? How many things in your life have you obsessed over that were nothing more than simply a bad pitch? How many lessons have you ignored from your kids, co-workers, teachers, writers, authors, podcasters, and youtubers simply because you got stuck on the one out of fifty things you didn’t agree with and languished over it when all it turned out to be in reality was a totally insignificant bad pitch? Think of all the things you’ve obsessed and been frustrated over in life and see if any were just a bad pitch. When you identify them, seek the life lesson that may have been hidden inside. You’ll be a better person when you do. Hey…I Believe In YOU! GiddyUp!


Paul White is a guest columnist and author. Purchase his life-changing book “The Answer Discovery – How to Change the World by Helping Others…and Ourselves” at http://bit.ly/PaulWhiteAmazon. If you’re interested in getting in touch with Paul, please submit an inquiry via our Contact Page.

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