The Value of Taking a Rebuilding Year

I am a Braves fan.

It’s a tough year to be a Braves fan.

The manager has been fired. The players have been traded. And traded again. And the overall team is green. Showing potential, but held down by inexperience.

And all of that is intentional.

A couple years ago, the team was strong, but aging. Several key players retired or moved on. With a new stadium on the horizon in 2017, those in charge elected to invest in young players with promise with the intention of spending a couple years rebuilding the team into something hopefully even better.

The fans get it.

They know that it’s a period of trial and error to capitalize on what works and discard what doesn’t. They accept that there will be some flexibility of identity as the team works to find its cohesion and purpose again. They are understanding about the mistakes and patient with the learning curve.

And most importantly, the fans focus on celebrating the victories rather than cursing the losses while trusting in the process and believing that greatness is around the corner.

There’s a freedom that comes with a rebuilding year. Opportunity to explore without fear of disrupting the status quo. There may not yet be victories, but the early seeds of success are growing just beneath the surface.

Teams aren’t the only ones that sometimes need to take a rebuilding year.

Sometimes life throws us curveballs that wipe out all of our experience. That leave us green and uncertain as the defeats pile up and threaten to bury any hope of success.

It’s easy to compare that new state with the former one and grow frustrated at the perceived decline.

But what if, instead of seeing it as a demotion, you embraced it as an opportunity to learn? To try on and adapt? To discard expectations and use small victories as motivation? To be gentle with yourself about the outcomes but firm with yourself about the importance of always trying again?

It’s not the beginning of the end.

It’s the beginning of the beginning.

Your very own rebuilding year.

What can you do now to help make your next season a winning one?

 

Related: Starting Over

 

Back to the Past

I recently stumbled across this spreadsheet mixed in with a bunch of math files on an old USB drive.

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It’s eye-opening to revisit.

I remember writing this one day, sitting at my desk after work. I had just made the decision to remain in Atlanta for the following school year and give my nascent relationship with Brock a chance.

I was preparing to move out of my friend’s home that had been my sanctuary for a year and into my own place.

My budget was small.

My needs were not.

As you can tell from the spreadsheet (yes, I am a math geek), I had nothing. Not even a towel.

Tier 1 were small and could be purchased early. I bought them about two weeks before moving and stashed them in Brock’s garage. I think he was a little nervous that I was moving in and staking my territory. I wasn’t – it was way too soon for that. I was just being efficient.

Tier 2 was the doozy – items that were still critical (more on the rug later), but also big-ticket. Brock gave me his extra mattress, giving me some breathing room (along with some of the tier 1 items that came as gifts from a housewarming- lifewarming?-party a friend had for me). My debit card was turned down at IKEA because the purchase amount was over my daily limit (what the what is that about???). My credit union was closed on Sunday, so we had to do an elaborate dance of the funds where my dad paid via credit card on the phone and I sent him a check the next day.

The rug stands out. It was pricey and not officially needed.

But it was a seed.

And therefore, important.

Many of the tier 3 and 4 items (lower on the priority list) were never purchased. And that’s okay.

This spreadsheet was part plan.

And part dream.

A ladder from where I was.

To where I wanted to be.

And that same IKEA sofa now sits in our living room, now covered in a more Brock and Tiger-friendly grey slipcover instead of the original white.

And underneath that sofa?

That floral jute rug.

In full bloom now.

Starting Over

“I can’t do this.”

“Why should I try again? I’m just going to fail.”

“Maybe I’m just no good at this.”

“I’m tired of trying.”

I hear those refrains from my coaching clients about lifestyle changes. I hear them from my blog followers about relationships. And, most of all, I hear them from my students about algebra.

My days are filled with students groaning  in frustration, papers wadded up and thrown away in disgust. Every day, I reach into my supply of pencil-topping erasers and provide students with a way to obliterate their mistakes. Sometimes, they become too defeated by even the faintest echoes of work gone wrong, and I have to provide them with a fresh copy, unsullied by their past choices. Some students thrive when they can write on the Activeboard or even with dry erase markers on the desk, where the marks of any error erase without a trace. I model starting over, capitalizing upon rather than hiding my own mistakes at the board.

So much of my day is spent coaching people in starting over – motivating past the initial resistance and guiding new attempts. And even though I coach students on algebra and adults on life, much of the lessons are the same.

We would rather fail because we didn’t try than fail because we couldn’t do.

This was a powerful realization in my early teaching days. I would get so frustrated with students who would just give up and refuse to attempt anything. I saw it as lazy. Or obstinacy. But usually it was a form of self protection. You see, if we try and fail, it reflects upon on abilities. Whereas if we do not try, it only discloses our choices. I learned that in order to reach these students, I had to first convince them that they were worthy in spite of their failures. I found ways to build them up. To let them know that it was safe to try and fail; I would not ridicule mistakes and I would not allow other to either. And then I would find ways to create successes so that they could feel the joy of finally getting something right.

Failure means you’re learning. Starting over means you’re applying the lessons.

We may me more mature than those kids in some ways, but we also shy away from trying because of a fear of how it reflects upon us. We internalize failure rather than see it as a sign of growth. We want to play it safe, stay in known zone where the risks are not too great and the effort not too imposing. We look at the past effort as wasted and we fear starting over because it may lead to another dead end. But the reality is that nothing is ever wasted if you learn from it.

Starting over is overwhelming.

Whether it’s one of students having to re-do a page long problem or a person facing dating again after the end of a long marriage, starting over is hard. Very hard. It’s like taking your first step of thousands in a marathon – your leg is moving forward even as your brain is screaming, “Don’t! It’s impossible!” As with any feat of endurance, the trick is to focus on one step at a time. Starting over requires energy and if you’re mentally biting off more than you can chew, you’re exhausting your resources before you even begin.

When we focus only on the results, we grow frustrated. Celebrate the steps along the way.

I get a strange look from students when I praise their reasoning or skill on one step of a problem but still advise them that their answer is incorrect. “But, Mrs. Arends, I got it wrong. Why are you telling me I did something good?” Learning is a process. Starting over is a process. When we attach too much meaning to the outcome, whether it be a date or an algebra problem, we may miss the signs that we are getting better. So even when the results aren’t what you wanted, celebrate any signs of improvement.

Defeat only occurs when you give up. It’s better to change your goal than to throw in the towel.

In spite of the message put forth by the “everybody gets a trophy” mentality, not everybody can do everything. There are times that you may be trying to accomplish something that is beyond your reach and requires an endless amount of starting over. Rather than just give up completely, shift your goal to something you can do.

When we begin again, the possibilities are endless.

There is something about a blank slate that cultivates enthusiasm. It’s an empty canvas ready to accept whatever you put down. It’s easier to start from the actions of the past, rewriting what we have already tried. But this is your chance to do something new. Different. If one way didn’t work, toss it out and play around with another. If you allow it, starting over can have a sense of playfulness. Curiosity. Wonder and excitement.

Starting over is not doing the same thing again. Starting over is a gift of being able to apply the wisdom of your past to create the image of your future. 

Try. You just might amaze yourself with what you can do.