When I went over to the boy's school the other day to pick him up after his Mini-Tennis class, his instructor loped up to me. A lanky chap, about fifty years of age, the instructor looked far too tall to be able to engage little tykes at their level. His back, I thought, must be absolutely shot to pieces.
Still, he appeared happy enough. "Hello," he said and grinned winsomely. "You have a lovely boy."
"Thank you," I said.
"Yes. He is lovely," said the man again.
Yup. This can't be good news, I thought to myself.
Meanwhile, the tyke was scarpering all over the place, chasing an errant ball and trying to whack it with his racket.
The instructor must have observed the shadow that descended upon my noble brow.
"He is lovely," he urged. "But perhaps he's not quite getting as much from these lessons as some of the other boys."
I raised a quizzical eyebrow.
"I'm thinking of getting someone else in to take care of the boys who are not as advanced as the others," the instructor added quickly.
"He is truly a lovely boy," he added a moment later.
On my way home with the boy, I pondered the situation. The little fellow was undoubtedly enjoying himself. True, he probably wasn't as disciplined as some of the others who had weekend coaching and hours of practice. But he was having a good time. Why take that away from him? Surely his lack of progress was something for the instructor to sort out?
A few days later, we found out that the boy was still bashing the ball energetically and aimlessly. This time, though, he wasn't the one chasing after the ball after each whack. A new worthy had appeared to take up that role. It was the instructor's son. Not a new instructor at all.
What to do? On the one hand, as long as the boy has someone to bash the ball with, he should eventually get the hang of it. On the other - we are paying for an instructor. Not a teen with little else on his hands. Dilemma, dilemma... Luckily, it's not something that we need to worry about immediately. We're off on holiday next week.
The decision can wait till the New Year.
Still, he appeared happy enough. "Hello," he said and grinned winsomely. "You have a lovely boy."
"Thank you," I said.
"Yes. He is lovely," said the man again.
Yup. This can't be good news, I thought to myself.
Meanwhile, the tyke was scarpering all over the place, chasing an errant ball and trying to whack it with his racket.
The instructor must have observed the shadow that descended upon my noble brow.
"He is lovely," he urged. "But perhaps he's not quite getting as much from these lessons as some of the other boys."
I raised a quizzical eyebrow.
"I'm thinking of getting someone else in to take care of the boys who are not as advanced as the others," the instructor added quickly.
"He is truly a lovely boy," he added a moment later.
On my way home with the boy, I pondered the situation. The little fellow was undoubtedly enjoying himself. True, he probably wasn't as disciplined as some of the others who had weekend coaching and hours of practice. But he was having a good time. Why take that away from him? Surely his lack of progress was something for the instructor to sort out?
A few days later, we found out that the boy was still bashing the ball energetically and aimlessly. This time, though, he wasn't the one chasing after the ball after each whack. A new worthy had appeared to take up that role. It was the instructor's son. Not a new instructor at all.
What to do? On the one hand, as long as the boy has someone to bash the ball with, he should eventually get the hang of it. On the other - we are paying for an instructor. Not a teen with little else on his hands. Dilemma, dilemma... Luckily, it's not something that we need to worry about immediately. We're off on holiday next week.
The decision can wait till the New Year.
3 comments:
It's rather cheeky of the instructor! Have fun on holiday:)
ha ha - that was a diplomatic instructor, but he found a solution nevertheless...
Maddy: Down with diplomacy, I say.
CB: thanks!
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