fbpx

A thoughtful, lovely reflection on her personal and professional growth, by our own Harlan Trevithick, as she prepares to begin a new chapter in her life. We will miss Harlan in the Row New York office, boats, and classroom, but we know she’ll go on to do great things. Best of luck, Harlan!

By Harlan Trevithick

In a recent NY Times op-ed, “A Life Beyond ‘Do What You Love,’” Professor Gordon Marino writes: “Dr. King taught that every life is marked by dimensions of length, breadth and height. Length refers to self-love, breadth to the community and care of others, and height to the transcendent, to something larger than oneself.”

As I prepare to leave Row New York for Washington, DC, after just two short years as a middle school program director, communications associate, and coach, I realize I have expanded in all of these dimensions. Here’s how:

Length (“self-love”): When I accepted the job of training 12- to 14-year-olds to be better rowers and students, I thought the coaching element would be fairly familiar and secondary to my development in nonprofit work. I had nine years of rowing experience, some coaching under my belt, and 12- to 14-year-old little sisters.  How hard could it be? I thought that going back to rowing at an age (24) when my professional development mattered most to me would be a useful way to help others, expand my knowledge of sport and development, and gain nonprofit experience. It was all about me, but in a good way. Right?

That was until I met my 40 rowers. As I saw them staring up at me, hurt that I was not their previous coach, having to use the bathroom, wanting to be in a different tutor group, and frustrated I didn’t know where things were in the office or their names, I realized I had a much bigger job to do. Those 40 tweens from all over Queens had 40 different personalities, 40 different family lives, struggles, passions, traumas, insecurities, and strengths.

Suddenly, as I helped them find a pencil, learned their names and the names of their four sisters and two brothers, taught them how to hold an oar, guessed their favorite color, and made sure I knew why they were crying and how to make them happy, it wasn’t about me anymore.

As I focused my full attention on them, improving at not just putting out their fires but anticipating them, I noticed my rowers and myself start to grow.  That switch—from my development to theirs—was the healthiest adjustment I could have made for their social-emotional learning and my professional development.  I had to be in charge, but relatable; fun, but appropriately stern; happy, but sharing their pain; and—oh right—able to coach them in rowing.

Focusing on my student-athletes’ ideas of “self-love” caused me to unwittingly learn to love myself more, having more confidence that I’m smart, hardworking, compassionate, and driven. Focusing on another’s good gave “length” to my self-definition. It was about me, and about them, together and in a good way.

Breadth to the community and care of others: I have always had an impulse to help those around me. As I grew up, I wholeheartedly gave to others on the water, on the field, or in the classroom. I gave to the various communities in which I lived.

I definitely wanted to factor “giving” and “community” into my career, but I figured I would be of most use and would have those terms most defined after I had worked for about 10 years, established my career, and lived in a city I loved.

Unexpectedly, my full-time job at Row New York bridged the gap between those 10 years of work, research, and career definition.  Within months I had a tangible and significant impact.  I was not the top funder or the leader of the organization, but I had an important role within multiple levels of community: I brought kids who had never heard of rowing into the rowing world, communicated with schools, parents, and families from a variety of neighborhoods, and learned from exceptional staff, rowers, teachers, YMCAs, Olympians, funders, and volunteers all centered around a sport that demands excellence and a mission enacting opportunity for all.

Our combined efforts taught the students how to learn teamwork by using the help we gave to give to their teammates.  Being part of that collective also redefined “giving” for me personally. To ask my rowers to give themselves mentally and physically to the sport, I had to give my full effort to them.  Even if it took driving rowers to their individual homes in Jamaica, Queens until 9:00 pm, eight months of checking up on a rower who regularly treated me with hostility (only to finally see her open up), or taking six weeks to get a rower believing she could actually run two miles without stopping—and then doing it—the tough days taught me as much as the happy days with the kids. My energy drink was the drive to care for others, and I could always find a source in the office or the boathouse to refuel. I was giving my most, and in turn not only getting a salary for it, but also developing what I was asking of my athletes: more grit, tenacity, and self-efficacy.

Height: How do you define grit, tenacity, and self-efficacy? At Row New York, we’re always striving to master the metaphysical. We ask the students to mentally grab hold of qualities like teamwork, compassion, and drive in order to succeed. First we have to teach them what those terms mean and demonstrate them in practice. Focusing on those qualities—larger than oneself—quickly built my character.

When I saw my rowers finally understand the idea that when they work with their teammates they go faster, it reaffirmed my own belief in teamwork. When I saw my student-athletes learn how to set long-term goals and meet them, it reminded me to also set my own goals. Watching my rowers hold the door open for someone, pick up a piece of trash when nobody was looking, or greet somebody without prompting, reminded me to be good to others.  Confidence is built from success; when I saw my rowers succeed, defeating so many levels of adversity, I knew I could also have strength to realize my ambitions.

Professor Marino was decrying the fact that so many college graduates are encouraged to ‘do what they love’ in a way that implies that there is little value placed on hard work that isn’t glamorous. ‘Doing what you love’ at Row New York means something far broader and much tougher at times; we are all stronger for focusing on that length, breadth, and height.  I realize as I prepare to move to another city that although I was hired to teach and mentor, I have received at least as much as I’ve invested in my student-athletes.

1294410_10151915122173556_264571285_o

Related Posts