Character development in the book of real life is easy, they simply come to me. Not the characters, but the people. I just sit back and watch, listen or interact. There’s no pressure to tie up loose ends or to bring a plot back around full circle. In real life, the characters are who they are, and most of them come to me for a reason. One reason or another, I am supposed to help. The characters that come to me I couldn’t create with twice the arrogance my boss says I walk around the club with. Crazy as they are, the real challenge lies in determining why they seek my help.
What is their motive?
Yes, on the surface they all want to be better golfers. But that is where the average instructor hangs his hat and calls it a day. I’m not trying to be everything to everyone, but whether considered from the perspective of a journalist or a teacher, the question is equally compelling…Or a psychiatrist, or a friend, or a confidant. I guess that explains the compelling nature of the question, right? Everyone wears several hats in their day to day life it’s just not always by choice. A good instructor must wear all hats, and never hang one idle. A good instructor must WANT to wear all hats and have a passion for wearing all hats.
Listen to me…I refer to my students with words such as “them” and “their” as if they are mindless, spiritless figure heads. To me, actually, my students are more than just golfers. They are people with stories to tell. Stories that are communicated through a common medium, with a unique language, in an environment driven by instant gratification and lack of independent thought. In their stories, the characters are already developed, but the issues are largely unresolved. The solutions, at least the worthwhile ones, lie way beyond posture and ball position. Their personalities, attitudes and environments are what drive my philosophy on the game, which, if you care to know, has more to do with self-sufficiency than it does the laws and principles of the golf swing.
For most of my students, the reason why they are at odds with the game can be realized through their motive to take lessons or seek help. To them, my role is to shave strokes from their already disingenuous handicap. From a dollar-per-hour perspective, that is probably true. But to be honest, a student’s interpretations of the shortcomings that plague their golf swing often are mentioned in the same breath as the shortcomings that plague their day-to-day life. It is very interesting because the former is oftentimes a function of the latter. It goes something like this:”I’m hitting everything to the right these days, but I am going through a divorce right now and I haven’t had much time to practice,” as if to imply that a failed marriage gave them an open clubface.
Suddenly my role changes. Does Brian really need help with his short game, or does he need an hour of clarity every week to help focus on something other than an impending divorce? Does Chris need help with his balance, or does he need 30 minutes every week to share stories about his wife who recently passed away? Does Shawn need help with swing plane, or is he trying to learn how to be a more tolerant, efficient communicator as partner and chief operating officer of a downtown public relations firm? (Debatable whether or not this is the reason why I am not still working for him:)
All good questions and are just a few of the hats that I donned this week. I develop relationships, not pretty golf swings. And I operate under the impression that people could care less how much I know until they know how much I care.
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