In 1998, I took a job at Union Hill School that is literally sandwiched between the two parts of Empire Mine State Park (which is full of trails). At that time, I started the Union Hill Mountain Bike Club (UHMBC). Several of the students who have come through our program have become top-notch racers: Chris Thibodeau, a Super-D national champion; Dezmin Wilder, one of the top 24-hour racers in the country; and several others racing for colleges across the United States. But, I think my biggest accomplishment continues to be my success in getting kids excited to ride bikes. We have a great time riding the trails, greeting hikers and horseback riders, and talking about and practicing riding skills.
However, my experience this past Tuesday was a first for me. An 8th grade boy (14 years old) approached me last Thursday after class. He was visibly nervous.
"Mr. Ross?" pause..."I was wondering if ... I know this is going to sound silly ... I was wondering if you would help me learn how to ride my bike?"
Now, I have had several students want to learn how to mountain bike, but his demeanor was such that I asked if he meant off-road or from scratch. He explained that he used to ride with training wheels, but as he got older he was embarrassed and stopped riding all-together. Several years ago, he received a mountain bike for Christmas, and several people along the way said they would help him learn to ride ... it just never worked out. So, we set aside the next Tuesday afternoon to begin the process.
On Monday, he expressed that he was very nervous, and on Tuesday, he was doubly so. During class, whenever the other students were busy doing something else, he would come over and say, "I am so nervous Mr Ross. Do you think it will be tough? Do you think I can learn to ride?" I simply replied that we would give it a shot and with good balance, he should learn rather quickly. His mother brought in the bike, which had the original tags and the funky sign thingy in the spokes. It had been sitting so long, that the cables would not shift and several of the bolts were showing rust. The rims were out of true and the brakes were rubbing as well.
But, nevertheless, we met after school and headed out to the flattest section of blacktop we have, complete with basketball poles that provide great obstacles, or targets ... however you look at them.
After getting the helmet set and giving him some initial instruction (brake use, leaning and turning the wheel, putting feet down if starting to fall), I taught him how to get on the bike without falling over. We were at the top of the blacktop heading down a slight decline...perfect for working on straight line balance. I gave the word and he rolled forward getting his straight-line balance fairly quickly as his speed increased. I had him grab the brakes and he lurched to a a stop. I was about to tell him what "feathering" the brakes meant, when he started in:
"No way!! I did it!! No Way!! No Way!!"
Me: "Easy there, turbo! That was really good but we have to work on turning the bike now."
We then worked on leaning and turning the bike, then focusing on where he wanted to go (not into the poles) and turning his head, and finally starting with the comfy pedal forward. Within 20 minutes he was riding on his own around the whole playground.
Remember, this is a 14 year old. While riding ..."Mr. Ross! I am doing it! I am riding! Wow, I can't believe it! Was it that easy all along?! Look! I am riding! Wow! I can see why people enjoy this so much ... why you enjoy this so much!"
That last sentence really got me. I do love riding, and I love sharing that with anyone I can. It is rare, however, to connect with a student on such a level. Asking me to teach him and riding around on our campus in front of other people was a huge risk for him, a risk that led to an indescribable sense of accomplishment. That student will forever remember the person who taught him how to ride a bike -- a teacher who gave just a little extra time that may equate to a lifetime of joy on two wheels. And for me, it reminded me of the joy my bike brings. Amazed and humbled, I went home and rode ... cherishing every pedal stroke.
Cheers,
Chuck
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