Posts Tagged ‘physical literacy’

n8 jumping

Physical literacy is the language of movement.

If there was any language I learned most proficiently, it was movement. I was athletic. I could swim, jump, run, tumble, catch, kick, throw, shoot, ride my bike, ski- on both water and snow, and swing a bat. I was better at some elements than others, but there were very few physical games in which I couldn’t participate. I was not born an athlete, however. Despite popular belief, there is no such thing as an athletic gene…or at least researchers haven’t found one yet. It is a common assumption that when there are seemingly generations of athletes it is because athletic parents have athletic children. The truth is…athletic children become athletic because their parents do athletic things with them. What matters more is the timing of exposure to certain physical activities, and an intention toward that exposure. We all have the capacity to learn athletic movements.

My childhood had been the perfect, and inadvertent, breeding ground for growing physical literacy. My dad had been a solid athlete throughout his life and he loved to do athletic things with us. My mom became a passionate trailblazer in a time when a door was opening to create never-before-seen opportunities for young female athletes. And then there were the constant teammates and opponents I had in my siblings. Through all of my play, I was unknowingly building physical literacy. The more I moved the more proficient I got.

Instead of accidentally creating athletes, the Canadian Sport For Life  has long supported a more purposeful approach called the Long-Term Athlete Development program (LTAD). Developed in the 1990’s by sport scientist Istvan Balyi, it was created over an eight-year period during his work with Canadian alpine skiers. Since its inception, it has become internationally accepted as the model by which athletes should be developed. Canada, the United Kingdom, Australia, and more recently organizations in the United States like USA hockey and US Soccer have all adapted youth athlete programming that reflects the LTAD model.

Based on findings of physical development, the LTAD model has evolved into basically seven phases: an active start, FUNdamental movements, Learning to train, Training to train, Training to compete, Training to win, and Retirement and retainment. Instead of chronological age as an indicator for athletic development, the LTAD model uses Peak Height Velocity (PHV) as the gauge by which programming should be implemented. PHV is the point in pubescence when the tempo of growth is the greatest.

****Ideas to promote physical literacy…good for families…easy on checkbooks******

If we want better athletes, it is not hard. Starting from when they are really little, and up to about the ages of 8 to 10, make it a goal to teach them to do the following things:

Ride a bike, swim, kick and dribble a soccer ball, throw and catch a baseball, throw and catch a football, run, ice skate, ski, jumprope, swing a tennis racket, skateboard. There is no prescribed order, just an intention to teach your children these skills before they are 10 years old. The best part about seeing athletic development as physical skill acquisition is that it does not have to cost a single dime. You CAN do all of these things at home.  Granted, there are plenty of awesome programs developed to expose your child to these different athletic skills, and it is fun to sign up with friends as they learn, but it is not necessary.

Now granted, there are some elements that are harder depending on where you are geographically, but there are ways to simulate skiing and skating. It takes creativity. You don’t need to pay for swim lessons, just get in the pool as much as possible and swim. (unless you’re not comfortable in the pool, then it’s better to hire someone who will not exhibit fear in the water). Visit playgrounds and skate parks, buy roller blades (and make sure to buy lots of padding), look up park workouts that you can do in snow and sun. Make up exercises for every card in a deck of cards and when you draw that card, do that exercise. Play family games of kickball, hockey, soccer, or basketball. Play tennis on an open court, shoot baskets outside, take bike rides, go hiking, encourage kids to do cartwheels. I tell my girls cartwheels are pushups in disguise.  Do handstands too. Let you kids have dance parties (aerobics) and dance with them.  If you don’t know these skills then look up how to do them.  Living in the information age provides access to information that is unparalleled to any other time in history.  Take a chance and try it…teach yourself so you can teach your kids.  It is valuable bonding time and you don’t have to pay gas, uniforms, registration, etc. If you work really hard on the first kid, you won’t have to worry about that same energy for your younger kids. They’ll have a model of movement in their sibling (s).

There is no real need to expose kids to team competition until they are about eight years old. They don’t get what it means to be part of a team before then, and the games we adults set up for them provide some skill development, but it seems to be more about being entertained. It is not as much fun to watch children gain physical literacy as it is to see them score a goal, but if we want better athletes, we’d be better off delaying the investment in team activities and exposing kids to all sorts of physical movement.

We need to change our mentality about teams for young kids if we want ALL children to become better athletes.

 

Meagan’s book   Choosing to Grow For the Sport of It: Because All Kids Matter is her current WIP. You can learn more about the project at her website: www.meaganfrank.com

 

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Copyright 2013     Meagan Frank               Choosing to Grow

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I cannot bring myself to watch the video of Kevin Ware’s injury. I too broke myself on a basketball court, and it would hit way too close to home to watch it from an audience viewpoint. My injury exposed more than weakened bones. Being physically broken showed me the weak spots in my emotional and mental game too.

It makes me concerned that we, as coaches and parents, are not doing enough to prepare athletes for the inevitability of injury.

The following is an excerpt from my book: Choosing to Grow for the Sport of It Because All Kids Matter and I offer it up as food for thought.

It could be the noises in the darkened hospital, or maybe it’s the overwhelming sense of helplessness, but either way, the throbbing pain partnered with my over-active brain renders me sleepless. The painkillers have numbed the dull aches in my leg and my arm, but there is no way to make my discomfort go away completely. Without an option of rolling onto my side, I stare out over the edge of the bed and past my elevated full-leg cast, while the full-arm cast rests awkwardly on the pile of pillows on my stomach.

I can see the glow of the nurse’s desk and I can hear the murmurings of patients and machines. It wouldn’t have mattered if it had been dead silent… the motion in my head is distracting enough.

“Why did this have to happen?” my sixteen-year-old brain wonders, “I have never been hurt like this. Who’s going to believe I broke my arm and my leg…playing basketball…at a practice? The orderly’s right…I need to make up a better story than that. I’ll tell people I was saving a small child from an approaching semi…my leg and arm just couldn’t get out of the way in time…that’s a better story for sure. It sounds like a reasonable explanation for why I’ll be doomed to these casts for the next six weeks.”

It is night two of my hospital stay, and I’m finally alone. My dad has come and gone on the breeze of his alcohol-filled breath. My sister has called crying to tell me our basketball team lost the playoff game, and my stupid boyfriend had even less to say on the phone than usual.  It is the first time since arriving I am lucid enough to recognize the fear, pain, and sadness have arrived. I wasn’t afraid when they talked about resetting my badly broken arm…I wasn’t afraid when the doctor explained I had fractured my tibia just below my knee cap… I wasn’t afraid as they wheeled me out of surgery and past the waiting room where my mom and soccer coach were visiting. I wasn’t afraid as the day-time conversations swirled around my mobility. “She’s going to need a specially-constructed pair of crutches. Oh, and to get around school? I guess you’re right, she’s probably going to need an electric wheelchair.”

Now, in the solitude of a crowded hospital… with only muted hallway light to cut through the darkness… the fear grows. I am afraid of the unknown.  I can’t picture what this new kind of movement will look like. I didn’t know quite what to make of this new version of myself.

Tears fill my eyes and as they start to pour down my cheeks, I have to let them fall.  I can’t move the casted arm, and the other one is painfully connected to my I.V.

“So this is what it’s going to be,” I think. Tear after tear lands on my hospital gown.

I try to compose myself, as the weight of the casts seeps past my bones and into the very center of my awareness.

“I can’t do this,” I sob to no one in particular.

 

This scene, in my sports story, is more important than any other I experienced. It was a stark wake-up call to how dysfunctional my relationship with sports had become. The moment I hit that basketball floor, the world I had built, and the only world I felt I understood, shattered. I had been functioning as a barely one-dimensional athlete, and I hadn’t realized it.

Successful athletes need to be physically coordinated and conditioned, but they also need to be mentally tough and emotionally stable. Who was I without the physical capacity to compete in sports? I hadn’t had a reason to contemplate that question, and I likely would never have asked it without being forced. So in the six weeks that followed my “accident” I took inventory of my worth. I had to look at my world without the physical language on which I had become so completely dependent. I was forced to gauge whether I had the internal toughness to fight through pain, ridicule, and recovery, and I had to address the gaping holes in my emotional armor.  When I emerged on the other side of that time of reflection, I was not the same person, and I dare argue, the “recovering” version was why I ever came close to attaining my full potential as an athlete.

Breaking myself was the best thing that could have happened to me. Only during the course of research for this book, did I begin to fully understand, and appreciate, why battling through that injury made me a better athlete…and a better person. Of course, I knew that the entire experience had been, as my mom put it, “character-building”, but I hadn’t taken the time to fully analyze why those weeks of immobility were so necessary. Before I got hurt, I truly believed physical work and achievement were all that mattered. Period. I had used both academic and athletic achievement as a way to distract me from the painful parts of my childhood. I hadn’t spent time thinking about the emotional fuel I had been using, nor had I considered whether my internal script was building a solid foundation for my beliefs about myself.  The only piece I had succeeded in achieving in athletics, up to that point, was my physical literacy.

 

The next blogpost will be about physical literacy and the ways parents and coaches can utilize the developmental tool to build physically stronger athletes.

 

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Copyright 2013     Meagan Frank                               Choosing to Grow