Practice Makes Perfect

Saturday morning I could not fight my normal urge to catch an extra fifteen or so minutes of sleep; even though it was 6 a.m. and still dark outside. Bumbling around in the dark, using the flashlight on my cell phone as a guide I prepared for the first volleyball practice at my school. I was reminded of how many early mornings of my life have been spent getting ready for such practices.

I have been telling myself for weeks that I am going to start running each morning. When that never happened, I said, OK well how about yoga? I did that for two days. The lack of exercise is becoming noticeable. Not because I am gaining weight, but rather when I exert myself in the slightest I can feel in my muscles this dormant like state rebelling against me as they never would have in the past.

I bike to school and arrive a little after 6:30, practice starts at 7, but I want to have time to put up the net. The surveillant at the school, who is in charge of the soccer team, has agreed to meet me, but there is a miscommunication. He was at the school, but insisted that we take a run up the mountain, which is something he does with the director every Saturday (I have joined twice before). Apparently when I agreed to come early, this was why. I told him that I wanted to be ready when the girls arrived. Oh we will be done by 7:15 or so. I don't know how many laps I have run as a player and given as a coach for being late, let alone 15 minutes. I don't have much of a choice and so I go on the run.

When we get back the girls are waiting and we make our way to the volleyball court with two balls and the net. One ball I found the day before as I was leaving the tailors. I was shocked to have found it and bought it even though I know the guy asked way too much for it. After seeing the school's volleyball I had no other choice, that is the second volleyball.

I am running behind my planned out practice and opt to forgo putting up the net. We are going to be doing introductory stuff with passing mostly, so the net won't be necessary. I run five laps around the court with the girls. And by court, I mean what I guessed to be the parameters. The court is not sand, not pavement, just regular terrain, with some boulders and dried out grass patches--a breeding ground for injuries. There are two giant wooden poles stuck in the ground where you hang the net. I know that diving is not going to be a safe option, and my girls are going to have to learn to be fast.

I have the girls circle up, but of course I don't know the French phrase for this, so I just sort of point and tell girls where to stand. I go to stretch the arms first and quickly realize how foreign all of this is to these girls. They just giggle uncomfortably. I forgo trying to have them count outloud like we do in the States. The rest of the practice is spent learning passing form, some setting, and a little bit of hitting (just going through the motions).

It is difficult at first to get the girls to have a wide enough stance when they pass--many look pigeon toed. I keep asking them if that is comfortable and how they can't move like that. They laugh, but then next thing I turn around and a different girl is doing it. I don't have to tell to many of them to keep their butts down, and they laugh when I make reference to the "Yo-Yo-Yo" song, which has a video of cartoon women shaking their huge butts. I try to explain to them that you have to call for the ball. I teach them 'mine' after they fail to say anything in French. They start calling the ball, but when it isn't near them. They think they should yell mine if they want the ball. Finally, my sister comes in and explains in Biali, which helps. The only major breakthrough I finally have at the end is to tell them to stand like they are washing clothes, which is normally with a wide stance.

I go to setting, which is not exactly my strong point. I try to teach the way I learned, holding a paint bucket, make a small window parrallel to your forehead. They do the up and down motion with their legs and arms well enough, but when we start a few insist on swatting the ball downward. I demonstrate that way doesn't work, but this one girl can't help herself.

I show them a little bit of serving and then toss the solo ball we have up for each of them to hit. I have a feeling serving will be easy for girls who spend their days mashing up food with giant wooden sticks and have way better arm muscles than I ever have.

In the end I feel bad. I think the practice was flat and I am discouraged because we just have one ball, my volleyball terminology is limited in French, and I am worried the girls did not enjoy it, although they say the do. I realize that part of my problem is I am American and I have this mentality with volleyball that everything must be done exactly right. I have realized though that all these girls, save one, have never seen volleyball played, let alone played it. For that matter some have never played a sport. I have decided what I need to do is create a volleyball team like my classes, where the practices are fun and engaging, and patients is key.

On Sunday morning I wake up early, but not to run. I wake up because my legs are extremely sore from the day before. I can't believe I used to play volleyball everyday and sometimes all day. My sister and her friend later tell me how sore their legs are too. They are in a pain, but not in a "I never want to do it again," but proud of the reason behind it.