When I was about 15 years-old, I played in my town’s youth basketball league. I averaged about 8 points per game and was the third or fourth leading scorer on our team. The coach positioned me in the post for most plays, theoretically putting me in a position to post up my defender, though a pass rarely made it in my direction.

Instead, I did a lot of boxing out, using my strength and leverage to force opponents under and away from the basket, allowing me to grab a lot of rebounds and occasionally putting one through the hoop.

Halfway through the season, our coach missed a game, and the assistant coach, a quiet man, took over. Just before tipoff, he took me aside and said, “Find your shot today. If’ you’re open, don’t be afraid shoot. Use your legs. Be aggressive.”

I scored 26 points that day. I led my team in scoring and rebounding. I called for the ball when I had position on my opponent. I was looking for the ball on the fast break. I was cutting through the lane with authority. I was fouling hard.

We won the game by double digits – one of the few victories we would enjoy that year. It was the best game of organized basketball I had ever played.

A few days later, my coach returned. “How the hell did you score 22 points?” he asked. “And why did you save it for the one game I missed?”

Then he promptly returned me to the post and rarely fed me the ball. I promptly returned to form.

It was the first time in my life that I understood how a person can make you better simply by making you think differently about yourself. The assistant coach didn’t teach me how to shoot or dribble or pass better. He didn’t offer me an ounce of actual instruction. He simply expressed confidence in me and made me feel like I had the freedom to play the game well.

It was one of those life lessons you never forget. It’s a life lesson I bring to my classroom everyday. It’s sounds ridiculous, but if you tell a kid that they write well, their writing (and their effort) will dramatically improve. If you tell a kid that they are a skilled mathematician, they will be more willing to tackle complex problems, experiment with different ways of solving problems, and be more willing to make mistakes. If you tell a kid that they are a role model for their classmates, they will often begin acting as a role model for others.

I’m not lying to any of these kids. I’m simply expressing confidence in their ability to be great. Oftentimes, that’s all a kid needs to pursue greatness.

I remember the name of the coach of that basketball team, but I don’t remember the assistant coach’s name, which is a damn shame. He’ll never know how one game of basketball changed my life – and perhaps the lives of countless students – for decades.

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