Hockey mom

I was a "hockey mom" before it had a political connotation. I'm not actually a mom of a hockey player, but I was once told by a college hockey player that I was like his mom so I think that's close enough.

The comment that I was like his mom wasn't because I cooked for him or did his laundry or nagged him relentlessly. Well, maybe it was because I nagged him relentlessly. I prefer to think it's because I cheered for him, cared for him, and generally supported him while he adjusted to college. I was president of his fan club, so to speak, and I believed in him when a lot of other people had given up on him. I referred to him as "my little hockey boy" even though he was anything but little. It was an affectionate term for how I felt about him. I thought of him as my little boy, my pseudo-son who I was responsible for taking care of throughout his college career.

I met my little hockey boy when I was assigned to work with him on his academics. He came to college seriously underprepared academically and had significant learning disabilities, both of which went undetected during his recruitment. Actually, his parents were very forthright that he had learning disabilities, but his transcripts and test scores didn't reveal the extent of these challenges. A month into the first semester of his freshman year of college, he was re-tested and diagnosed, and I was hired to work with him one-on-one.

I was tough on him. I pushed him to take school seriously and made him stay longer than he was required to in order to complete his work. He rewrote more papers than he probably needed to because I knew he could do better. I encouraged him to register for classes that he found interesting, even if they were going to challenge him academically more than he'd even been challenged in his school career. I made him a student-athlete.

As much as I pushed him, he also knew how much I cared for him. One of my favorite little hockey boy moments came after I had been working with him for over a year, and happened on a day when he needed both a butt kicking and a hug. I was on my way home from Milwaukee and got caught in a snowstorm. The interstate closed and I had to take an alternate route home so I was late to study table. I had a partner who supervised the other hockey guys so this normally wouldn't be a problem, but on this particular night, my little hockey boy didn't want to be there. He threatened to leave, saying that he didn't need to be there if I wasn't there. My partner and I exchanged text messages and I assured her I would be there soon, and she convinced him to stay. By the time I arrived, he was sulking and refusing to do any work.

I took him aside and said something like, "What is going on with you? You're acting like a butthead and that's not like you at all. You've never talked back to me or [my partner], you've never refused to do your work, and you've never been disrespectful to me, but this week you've done all of those things and that's not like you. What is going on with you?"

And my 6'2", 215-lb. hockey player, who was known to be an enforcer on the ice, teared up.

He shared how frustrated he was with his lack of playing time- he had essentially been benched- and how he felt like if he wasn't playing hockey, he didn't know if he should stay at this school because it was so academically difficult. I told him that I would support him in whatever he decided to do, but as far as I was concerned, he wasn't going to leave the university because he couldn't hack it academically. I also reminded him that he could talk to me whenever he needed to and that I would always be there for him.

Was I professional in how I handled the situation? Not really. I did confront the behavior, which is absolutely the right thing to do professionally, but it's also the way I would hope a parent would address a child who was acting out of character. Should I have said he was acting like a butthead? No. Would a mom tell her son he was acting like a butthead? Eh, maybe. The thing is, I never, EVER talked to him like that and so the fact that I called it like I saw it completely grabbed his attention. It's also the way I knew he had to be addressed - directly and without any bullshit - and this was because he'd always been talked to this way as hockey player. Hockey coaches don't do subtle.

Because I was not just a tutor but also a pseudo hockey mom, I grew very attached to these boys. I wanted what was best for them, and I wanted them to be successful in school, in hockey, and in life. I was just as happy when they did well in school as when they won games, but I was happier when I saw them make good decisions and act maturely, and I was happiest when I saw them achieve their goals that I knew they worked so hard to accomplish.

Last May, my little hockey boy graduated. This was a major accomplishment for him, and I couldn't be prouder of him. Because he persevered through school, he was able to keep playing hockey. And because he was able to develop as a player and a person over four years, he not only graduated in May, but also signed a professional contract to play hockey. This was his dream, and even though it was a difficult journey, he accomplished his goal.

I think back to all that was happening with my little hockey boy on that day when I confronted him, and I feel like it was a turning point for him. I don't know that I really had anything to do with turning it around both in school and in hockey, but I do know that his attitude changed after that day. I don't think I motivated him in anyway - he had to put in a lot of work on and off the ice to get back in the coaches' good graces and that was all his doing - but I think it helped him to know that he had someone in his corner.

The Charlotte Checkers schedule came out today, and I'm thrilled that they have two home games against the team that my little hockey boy will be playing for this year. I'm going to be at those games, cheering loudly, like the proud hockey mom I am.