The Bunny Hill
I took Sofi skiing today at Mnt. La Crosse. From the very beginning it was quite the endeavor for Sofi, as it took us a full hour and fifteen minutes just to wait in line for our rental gear. Once we finally got all our gear fitted and on, we joined a ski lesson for beginner skiers.
Of course most of the class was older kids and beginning adults, so Sofi had a hard time keeping up. But she kept at it: first learning how to put her skis on, and then how to turn around while standing in her skis, and then how to get up from a fall, and then how to point the skis in a "v" to control her decent down the hill. It was while practicing her "v" and struggling to climb up the slight incline she was practicing on that she fell behind the rest of the class. And when the rest of the class moved on to learn how to turn and practice turning, she was still practicing her "v", and missed the lesson on turning. So when she finally got the point where she was suppose to be showing an instructor her turns, she didn't really know what she was suppose to be doing, and continued to practice her "v".
Thing was, this was the last step to the bunny hill. Show the instructor that you could turn, and he'd send you on your way to give it a go on the bunny hill. So as the class slowly became smaller as more and more fellow classmates were given permission to go to the bunny hill, Sofi found herself being asked to repeatedly try to make turns as she skied down this small incline. And just getting back up the small incline was a struggle for her. Thankfully she wasn't the only skier struggling with their turns, so she wasn't completely alone in her frustration. This was hard for me as her dad, trying to walk that fine line of frustration—I didn't want to help her to the point that I was doing everything for her (helping her get up all the time, helping her up the incline all the time), because then she would end up relying on me and not learning how to do it herself. But I didn't want her to become so frustrated that she decided she never wanted to ski ever again.
But eventually a breaking point was reached, and Sofi eventually collapsed on the snow, in tears. Since it took so long just to get our rental gear, it was pretty close to supper time anyway, so I encouraged her to take a break and we went inside to eat a couple of hotdogs and chips.
Refreshed from our meal, we brushed off our lack of teacher permission and hit the bunny hill anyway. Sofi was both excited, and a little scared. But with her between my skis, we both grabbed onto the tow rope, kept a wide stance and our skis straight, and yanked ourselves to the top of the hill.
This is where I took a tip from a childhood photo my parents have of me. It's a photo of me probably at the age of two or three, on short little skis, standing between the legs of one of my parents. So with Sofi between my skis again, we headed down the hill, holding her close, coaching her on how to bend her knees, point her skis in a "v" and lean forward.
Immediately she was ready to go back up; more excited about the tow rope actually then going downhill with Dad. But eventually her trips down began a pattern that I suspect I will see more and more as we both grow older: Sofi went from skiing between my skis, to skiing next to me and holding my hand. And then eventually from holding my hand to letting go near the bottom. And then letting go closer and closer to the top. And after many falls, and stops involving her butt dragging along the snow, and many tears of frustrating about how everyone else wasn't falling (which isn't true, but she felt like it was), Sofi persisted and in the end she was going up the tow rope all by herself, and skiing down all by herself, several times without falling.
She was visibly happy and proud of her accomplishments as we walked back to the chalet. I was proud of her too; she went from being someone who had never skied and needed every bit of assistance, to someone who was willing to try to do it by herself and to not give up, and finally to someone who succeeded in doing it on her own, without assistance—all in one afternoon.
As we walked she said she wanted to go skiing again. And when I told her that Papa, Grandma D and Aunt Michelle were all good skiers, she said that she wanted them to take her skiing.
As we walked back to the car, she noticed someone taking their skis and boots to their car and cried out "Dad! They forgot to return their stuff!" And I told her that some people own their skis and boots, and don't have to rent them. Sofi replied, "I want to get some skis... but not 'standers' [poles]... standers make things too difficult". And she wants to take another ski class—so she can show her teacher that she can turn.
Of course most of the class was older kids and beginning adults, so Sofi had a hard time keeping up. But she kept at it: first learning how to put her skis on, and then how to turn around while standing in her skis, and then how to get up from a fall, and then how to point the skis in a "v" to control her decent down the hill. It was while practicing her "v" and struggling to climb up the slight incline she was practicing on that she fell behind the rest of the class. And when the rest of the class moved on to learn how to turn and practice turning, she was still practicing her "v", and missed the lesson on turning. So when she finally got the point where she was suppose to be showing an instructor her turns, she didn't really know what she was suppose to be doing, and continued to practice her "v".
Thing was, this was the last step to the bunny hill. Show the instructor that you could turn, and he'd send you on your way to give it a go on the bunny hill. So as the class slowly became smaller as more and more fellow classmates were given permission to go to the bunny hill, Sofi found herself being asked to repeatedly try to make turns as she skied down this small incline. And just getting back up the small incline was a struggle for her. Thankfully she wasn't the only skier struggling with their turns, so she wasn't completely alone in her frustration. This was hard for me as her dad, trying to walk that fine line of frustration—I didn't want to help her to the point that I was doing everything for her (helping her get up all the time, helping her up the incline all the time), because then she would end up relying on me and not learning how to do it herself. But I didn't want her to become so frustrated that she decided she never wanted to ski ever again.
But eventually a breaking point was reached, and Sofi eventually collapsed on the snow, in tears. Since it took so long just to get our rental gear, it was pretty close to supper time anyway, so I encouraged her to take a break and we went inside to eat a couple of hotdogs and chips.
Refreshed from our meal, we brushed off our lack of teacher permission and hit the bunny hill anyway. Sofi was both excited, and a little scared. But with her between my skis, we both grabbed onto the tow rope, kept a wide stance and our skis straight, and yanked ourselves to the top of the hill.
This is where I took a tip from a childhood photo my parents have of me. It's a photo of me probably at the age of two or three, on short little skis, standing between the legs of one of my parents. So with Sofi between my skis again, we headed down the hill, holding her close, coaching her on how to bend her knees, point her skis in a "v" and lean forward.
Immediately she was ready to go back up; more excited about the tow rope actually then going downhill with Dad. But eventually her trips down began a pattern that I suspect I will see more and more as we both grow older: Sofi went from skiing between my skis, to skiing next to me and holding my hand. And then eventually from holding my hand to letting go near the bottom. And then letting go closer and closer to the top. And after many falls, and stops involving her butt dragging along the snow, and many tears of frustrating about how everyone else wasn't falling (which isn't true, but she felt like it was), Sofi persisted and in the end she was going up the tow rope all by herself, and skiing down all by herself, several times without falling.
She was visibly happy and proud of her accomplishments as we walked back to the chalet. I was proud of her too; she went from being someone who had never skied and needed every bit of assistance, to someone who was willing to try to do it by herself and to not give up, and finally to someone who succeeded in doing it on her own, without assistance—all in one afternoon.
As we walked she said she wanted to go skiing again. And when I told her that Papa, Grandma D and Aunt Michelle were all good skiers, she said that she wanted them to take her skiing.
As we walked back to the car, she noticed someone taking their skis and boots to their car and cried out "Dad! They forgot to return their stuff!" And I told her that some people own their skis and boots, and don't have to rent them. Sofi replied, "I want to get some skis... but not 'standers' [poles]... standers make things too difficult". And she wants to take another ski class—so she can show her teacher that she can turn.
Labels: sofi
posted by a n d y at
8:40 PM
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