Bicycle Riding School Diary
A girl of few words - August, 2024
Seven-year-old Lucy was not a big talker. In fact, in her first lesson she did not say a word. But, right at the end of her lesson, it clicked into place for her and she got her balance. She and her dad practiced more at home and she got pedaling a bit. So, at the second lesson, we started right in with pedals. She seemed a little reluctant, but she started pedaling soon. She started doing circles to the right and then multiple circles to the right. After a while, I asked her if she might possibly be able to do turns in the other direction. No answer.
So I asked her bike, Nightshade, if he would ever consider going left and then noticed that he had no bell! “Oh no!” I said. “How can he answer us? He has no bell!” Immediately she reached for the pad on the cross bar of the handle bars and wiggled it while she said, in a funny voice, “I don’t like to go left!” That was the first time I’d ever heard Lucy talk. I was shocked at Nightshade’s attitude. “Nightshade, please cooperate! Lucy has to go left if she’s ever going to learn to go straight.” Nightshade said, “No way!”, in that same funny voice, again wiggling his bar pad. I know when to back off, so I left it alone.
After 15 minutes, I said to Lucy, “I have a crazy idea. Wanna see if you can go left?” After a few tries, she managed to do it and she was smiling. After another 10 minutes, I asked her how much it seemed like Nightshade was going where she wanted it to. She said “Not too much” so I said we’d keep the bike path challenge for later. In another 10 minutes, I asked “Do you want to try to go down our fake bike path here? No big deal if you don’t stay in it. But we could just see. Now the key to going sort of straight is not thinking of going straight. Just think about getting down there. And keep a little speed up. They need you down there!” She said “Yes, I’m a fireman and there are people in that building who are going to burn up!” “Yes,” I said “Go rescue them!” She proceeded to ride straight down the 6-foot-wide duct tape path. She was smiling a bit now most of the time. She rode around and around till it was time to go.
Her dad and I decided to consider it graduation day, especially since they live pretty far away. As he was writing out the check, I talked to her “It was really fun to teach you how to ride! You did so well! You were a wonderful student!” She didn’t say anything and got in the car. As I was talking to her dad, I heard him say to her “You could say it a little louder” so I opened the back door and she said
“Thank you!”
:) (SMcL)
Seven-year-old Lucy was not a big talker. In fact, in her first lesson she did not say a word. But, right at the end of her lesson, it clicked into place for her and she got her balance. She and her dad practiced more at home and she got pedaling a bit. So, at the second lesson, we started right in with pedals. She seemed a little reluctant, but she started pedaling soon. She started doing circles to the right and then multiple circles to the right. After a while, I asked her if she might possibly be able to do turns in the other direction. No answer.
So I asked her bike, Nightshade, if he would ever consider going left and then noticed that he had no bell! “Oh no!” I said. “How can he answer us? He has no bell!” Immediately she reached for the pad on the cross bar of the handle bars and wiggled it while she said, in a funny voice, “I don’t like to go left!” That was the first time I’d ever heard Lucy talk. I was shocked at Nightshade’s attitude. “Nightshade, please cooperate! Lucy has to go left if she’s ever going to learn to go straight.” Nightshade said, “No way!”, in that same funny voice, again wiggling his bar pad. I know when to back off, so I left it alone.
After 15 minutes, I said to Lucy, “I have a crazy idea. Wanna see if you can go left?” After a few tries, she managed to do it and she was smiling. After another 10 minutes, I asked her how much it seemed like Nightshade was going where she wanted it to. She said “Not too much” so I said we’d keep the bike path challenge for later. In another 10 minutes, I asked “Do you want to try to go down our fake bike path here? No big deal if you don’t stay in it. But we could just see. Now the key to going sort of straight is not thinking of going straight. Just think about getting down there. And keep a little speed up. They need you down there!” She said “Yes, I’m a fireman and there are people in that building who are going to burn up!” “Yes,” I said “Go rescue them!” She proceeded to ride straight down the 6-foot-wide duct tape path. She was smiling a bit now most of the time. She rode around and around till it was time to go.
Her dad and I decided to consider it graduation day, especially since they live pretty far away. As he was writing out the check, I talked to her “It was really fun to teach you how to ride! You did so well! You were a wonderful student!” She didn’t say anything and got in the car. As I was talking to her dad, I heard him say to her “You could say it a little louder” so I opened the back door and she said
“Thank you!”
:) (SMcL)
Bobby and the Second Foot - June, 2023
Six-year-old Bobby’s mother told me that he loved Shakespeare.
He was a little hesitant to ride and, when I got him on a bike and asked him to push off and try to hold his feet up just a little, he just sat there on the bike, not moving. I gave him a very gentle nudge and he acted like I was pushing him off a steep cliff. So I asked him if he’d like me to hold the back of his shirt. He agreed immediately and started moving, ever so gingerly, on the bike. Luckily, we were on a flat lot so it wasn’t as scary as if it had been a gentle hill.
I said to him “To bike or not to bike, that is the question.” He looked confused.
I pushed him around for a bit, asking him to sit down and to try to hold his feet up a little. That was getting us nowhere; he was just walking along with the bike under him. So I said, “See if you can take longer steps” and, when he went 3 feet I said “Wee! Wonderful!” He smiled a bit, for the first time.
I kept telling him to turn the bars whichever way he was leaning. He was not moving those bars! I started saying “Come to me, go away. Now come to me again.” He was starting to turn the bars just a little bit. I showed him how much I wanted him to turn the bars while we were standing still – a lot more than he had been doing, and asked him to turn the bars for me, while we weren’t moving. He did and I said “That’s great! Now see if you can do that while we are moving.” I could barely hear him answer “I’ll try.”
We went back to the “Come to me, go away” routine and he did start to turn the bars a little bit. But every time I asked if I could let go of his shirt, the answer was an emphatic “No!” By the end of the first lesson, he was maybe going 6 feet at a stretch with his feet off the ground. I was holding his shirt, but not holding him up. I was just ready to catch him, if he started to fall.
By the second lesson he was turning more and getting longer stretches of balance, maybe 10 feet sometimes.
By the end of the third lesson, he had gone 60’ with his feet up five times. So I offered him pedals. He didn’t want them so we kept balancing. By this time I wasn’t holding his shirt anymore, just pushing him.
For the first half of the fourth lesson I was gently pushing for pedals. I assured him that, once he had his foot on the pedal, he could always easily take it off, if he needed to put it down to catch himself, and I showed him how soft the padded pedals were. I told him that sometimes, if I lost my pillow, I would get some padded pedals from the barn to sleep on. He looked skeptical. Almost half way through the fourth lesson, I got him to agree to put the pedals on. I told him he wasn’t going to have to use both of them. I just wanted him to put his foot on one and go around that way for a while. He really liked that. He finally actually put one foot on the pedal and I pushed him around like that for the rest of the lesson.
He was really good at balancing by now and keeping that first foot on the pedal. I started talking to the second foot. “Oh second foot, you’re a good foot. I know you can do it. Just go up half way to the pedal and ride around that way for a bit.” The second foot wasn’t buying it. I said “Second foot, you’re not going to let that first foot have all the fun, are you? Come on. You won’t have to pedal. Just rest yourself on that second pedal. It’s a good foot rest. I know you can do it.”
Bobby shot back “My second foot says that the first foot is being mean to him. He’s saying that he can’t do it.” I said “See if you can talk your first foot into giving the second foot a break.” That wasn’t working. The first foot was enjoying his being the brave one, ahead of the timid second foot.
Now Bobby started coaching his second foot. “Second foot, you’re just as good as the first foot. Don’t let him give you that! If you’re not ready, just go up half-way, just for a second.” I joined in “Bobby’s right. You look like a brave foot. You don’t have to go all the way up to the pedal right away. Just go up a little bit toward it.” The second foot was unmoved.
So I stopped and held the handlebars and asked Bobby to put one foot on the bottom pedal. I rocked the bars gently back and forth as if he were going along, balancing. Then I asked him to put his second foot up on the second pedal. He did it with no trouble. Then I said “Now put it up in slow motion, as If it’s a little worried. If you put it up gently enough, it won’t even notice that it’s going up.” We did that a few times, standing there, with me holding the bars so the bike stayed up. Then I started pushing him around again. The first foot was on the pedal as solidly as could be but the second foot was not raising up at all. Bobby said “The first foot is still making fun of the second foot. That makes him feel bad and like he can’t do it.”
I asked “What do you think your second foot needs to feel confident enough to go up to the pedal. If I go back to holding your shirt, do you think that might help?” Bobby answered “Maybe.” So I went back on shirt duty over the objections of my poor, aching back. I said “Once you get your foot up, be sure not to pedal! Just ride there with these nice foot rests.” His second foot started raising up a bit, not half way to the pedal, but up. I cheered “You’re doing it! Brave little foot, you’re doing it!” Bobby smiled a tiny smile.
Finally, he got the second foot on the second pedal and a little tear ran down his cheek. I pretended not to notice, but it broke my heart.
By the end of that 4th lesson, he had both feet on the pedals for a few seconds at a time.
At the next lesson, it took 20 minutes to get the second foot up again, with Bobby coaching it “You can do it. Remember last time?” But, by half way through the lesson, both feet were staying up reliably. Now the quest was to get him to pedal. Bobby must have been thinking “Gee, you give an inch and the teacher wants a mile! Now she wants me to pedal! I knew I shouldn’t have put that second foot up!” He did not pedal that day but both feet were firmly on the pedals. He was smiling, proud of himself.
At the sixth lesson, we did more balancing with the feet on. I asked things like “Do you think those feet might want to go around a bit?” But those feet were still. About half way through the next lesson I said “Let’s not really pedal. Just try moving your feet ever so slowly. I won’t even be able to tell if they’re moving, they’ll be going so slowly.” That worked and those little feet started moving ever so slowly, then a little faster. Finally he was pedaling hard enough that I could stop pushing him.
It took a couple more lessons for him to be able to push off hard enough to start himself. He could even use his brakes to stop himself. At the eighth lesson, we declared victory and he was a proud bike rider.
To bike or not to bike? Bobby’s answer was to bike! (SMcL)
Six-year-old Bobby’s mother told me that he loved Shakespeare.
He was a little hesitant to ride and, when I got him on a bike and asked him to push off and try to hold his feet up just a little, he just sat there on the bike, not moving. I gave him a very gentle nudge and he acted like I was pushing him off a steep cliff. So I asked him if he’d like me to hold the back of his shirt. He agreed immediately and started moving, ever so gingerly, on the bike. Luckily, we were on a flat lot so it wasn’t as scary as if it had been a gentle hill.
I said to him “To bike or not to bike, that is the question.” He looked confused.
I pushed him around for a bit, asking him to sit down and to try to hold his feet up a little. That was getting us nowhere; he was just walking along with the bike under him. So I said, “See if you can take longer steps” and, when he went 3 feet I said “Wee! Wonderful!” He smiled a bit, for the first time.
I kept telling him to turn the bars whichever way he was leaning. He was not moving those bars! I started saying “Come to me, go away. Now come to me again.” He was starting to turn the bars just a little bit. I showed him how much I wanted him to turn the bars while we were standing still – a lot more than he had been doing, and asked him to turn the bars for me, while we weren’t moving. He did and I said “That’s great! Now see if you can do that while we are moving.” I could barely hear him answer “I’ll try.”
We went back to the “Come to me, go away” routine and he did start to turn the bars a little bit. But every time I asked if I could let go of his shirt, the answer was an emphatic “No!” By the end of the first lesson, he was maybe going 6 feet at a stretch with his feet off the ground. I was holding his shirt, but not holding him up. I was just ready to catch him, if he started to fall.
By the second lesson he was turning more and getting longer stretches of balance, maybe 10 feet sometimes.
By the end of the third lesson, he had gone 60’ with his feet up five times. So I offered him pedals. He didn’t want them so we kept balancing. By this time I wasn’t holding his shirt anymore, just pushing him.
For the first half of the fourth lesson I was gently pushing for pedals. I assured him that, once he had his foot on the pedal, he could always easily take it off, if he needed to put it down to catch himself, and I showed him how soft the padded pedals were. I told him that sometimes, if I lost my pillow, I would get some padded pedals from the barn to sleep on. He looked skeptical. Almost half way through the fourth lesson, I got him to agree to put the pedals on. I told him he wasn’t going to have to use both of them. I just wanted him to put his foot on one and go around that way for a while. He really liked that. He finally actually put one foot on the pedal and I pushed him around like that for the rest of the lesson.
He was really good at balancing by now and keeping that first foot on the pedal. I started talking to the second foot. “Oh second foot, you’re a good foot. I know you can do it. Just go up half way to the pedal and ride around that way for a bit.” The second foot wasn’t buying it. I said “Second foot, you’re not going to let that first foot have all the fun, are you? Come on. You won’t have to pedal. Just rest yourself on that second pedal. It’s a good foot rest. I know you can do it.”
Bobby shot back “My second foot says that the first foot is being mean to him. He’s saying that he can’t do it.” I said “See if you can talk your first foot into giving the second foot a break.” That wasn’t working. The first foot was enjoying his being the brave one, ahead of the timid second foot.
Now Bobby started coaching his second foot. “Second foot, you’re just as good as the first foot. Don’t let him give you that! If you’re not ready, just go up half-way, just for a second.” I joined in “Bobby’s right. You look like a brave foot. You don’t have to go all the way up to the pedal right away. Just go up a little bit toward it.” The second foot was unmoved.
So I stopped and held the handlebars and asked Bobby to put one foot on the bottom pedal. I rocked the bars gently back and forth as if he were going along, balancing. Then I asked him to put his second foot up on the second pedal. He did it with no trouble. Then I said “Now put it up in slow motion, as If it’s a little worried. If you put it up gently enough, it won’t even notice that it’s going up.” We did that a few times, standing there, with me holding the bars so the bike stayed up. Then I started pushing him around again. The first foot was on the pedal as solidly as could be but the second foot was not raising up at all. Bobby said “The first foot is still making fun of the second foot. That makes him feel bad and like he can’t do it.”
I asked “What do you think your second foot needs to feel confident enough to go up to the pedal. If I go back to holding your shirt, do you think that might help?” Bobby answered “Maybe.” So I went back on shirt duty over the objections of my poor, aching back. I said “Once you get your foot up, be sure not to pedal! Just ride there with these nice foot rests.” His second foot started raising up a bit, not half way to the pedal, but up. I cheered “You’re doing it! Brave little foot, you’re doing it!” Bobby smiled a tiny smile.
Finally, he got the second foot on the second pedal and a little tear ran down his cheek. I pretended not to notice, but it broke my heart.
By the end of that 4th lesson, he had both feet on the pedals for a few seconds at a time.
At the next lesson, it took 20 minutes to get the second foot up again, with Bobby coaching it “You can do it. Remember last time?” But, by half way through the lesson, both feet were staying up reliably. Now the quest was to get him to pedal. Bobby must have been thinking “Gee, you give an inch and the teacher wants a mile! Now she wants me to pedal! I knew I shouldn’t have put that second foot up!” He did not pedal that day but both feet were firmly on the pedals. He was smiling, proud of himself.
At the sixth lesson, we did more balancing with the feet on. I asked things like “Do you think those feet might want to go around a bit?” But those feet were still. About half way through the next lesson I said “Let’s not really pedal. Just try moving your feet ever so slowly. I won’t even be able to tell if they’re moving, they’ll be going so slowly.” That worked and those little feet started moving ever so slowly, then a little faster. Finally he was pedaling hard enough that I could stop pushing him.
It took a couple more lessons for him to be able to push off hard enough to start himself. He could even use his brakes to stop himself. At the eighth lesson, we declared victory and he was a proud bike rider.
To bike or not to bike? Bobby’s answer was to bike! (SMcL)
Ridin' with ET - February, 2023
Jeremiah is a sweet, slightly shy 5 year old. When he arrived at the bike school, he seemed a little concerned. I asked him if he was good at opening really big, heavy garage doors and he said no, he wasn’t. I said “You look like you would be good at that, to me” and handed him the rope. He pulled, gently at first but then hard enough to open the door to the bike barn with 30 bikes inside. “Wow!” he said. We picked a bike for him, the next to the smallest one, got pads and a helmet and, as we were going toward the car, I asked him if he liked baby aliens. He said “Yes” so I offered him the chance to take Baby ET in the car with him over to the school yard. By the time we arrived, they were best friends. Jeremiah said that Baby ET wanted to ride with him on the bike, right from the start, so that was decided.
As we put him on the bike, Baby ET said “Hello, earthling” to Jeremiah and his parents. I explained that we all look kind of alike to him and he just calls us all “earthling.” His parents tried introducing themselves to him by name but, sure enough, ET always came back with the same answer, “Nice to meet you, earthling.” Now Jeremiah was helping ET talk.
During his first lesson, at his first break, Jeremiah told ET a story about a little alien who got lost and ended up on earth and wandered all around and finally found a happy home in a bicycle riding school. He told him the story while cradling his head between his hands and rocking it back and forth, ending the story with “I love you, ET.”
Baby ET doesn’t have the strongest neck and it gives him a sleepy look. During his second lesson Jeremiah decided that ET wanted to sleep. He liked the rocking motion and it made sleeping easier for him. Jeremiah speculated that maybe he hadn’t gotten a great sleep the night before. I told him that sometimes he gets lonesome in the car, all by himself. Now that he has people all around, he feels comfortable enough to go to sleep.
I learned from Jeremiah that aliens like very loud lullabies. There were big plows and other equipment moving around the lot where we were riding. They were picking up steel plates, trying to clear the snow away. They made back-up beeping noises, loud motors roared and metal plates scraped on the ground. ET just thought it was soothing background noise and he got sleepier and sleepier, until finally it was hard to get him to wake up. But Jeremiah assured me that he didn’t want to wake up, so I shouldn’t worry about it. Luckily, he liked hearing stories in his sleep and he even talked in his sleep, so he was still good company.
Jeremiah was getting to be a really good rider. If he got a little boost to get going, he could ride for 600’ or more at a time. He could stop and go more or less where he intended to go. When I suggested that we might be done with bike school, he looked really disappointed. He said he wanted to keep coming to bike lessons forever, and I had to admit I felt pretty much the same way. I said “You all will decide what to do but, in case you decide to come back, ET and I will both be delighted to see you again.” (SMcL)
Jeremiah is a sweet, slightly shy 5 year old. When he arrived at the bike school, he seemed a little concerned. I asked him if he was good at opening really big, heavy garage doors and he said no, he wasn’t. I said “You look like you would be good at that, to me” and handed him the rope. He pulled, gently at first but then hard enough to open the door to the bike barn with 30 bikes inside. “Wow!” he said. We picked a bike for him, the next to the smallest one, got pads and a helmet and, as we were going toward the car, I asked him if he liked baby aliens. He said “Yes” so I offered him the chance to take Baby ET in the car with him over to the school yard. By the time we arrived, they were best friends. Jeremiah said that Baby ET wanted to ride with him on the bike, right from the start, so that was decided.
As we put him on the bike, Baby ET said “Hello, earthling” to Jeremiah and his parents. I explained that we all look kind of alike to him and he just calls us all “earthling.” His parents tried introducing themselves to him by name but, sure enough, ET always came back with the same answer, “Nice to meet you, earthling.” Now Jeremiah was helping ET talk.
During his first lesson, at his first break, Jeremiah told ET a story about a little alien who got lost and ended up on earth and wandered all around and finally found a happy home in a bicycle riding school. He told him the story while cradling his head between his hands and rocking it back and forth, ending the story with “I love you, ET.”
Baby ET doesn’t have the strongest neck and it gives him a sleepy look. During his second lesson Jeremiah decided that ET wanted to sleep. He liked the rocking motion and it made sleeping easier for him. Jeremiah speculated that maybe he hadn’t gotten a great sleep the night before. I told him that sometimes he gets lonesome in the car, all by himself. Now that he has people all around, he feels comfortable enough to go to sleep.
I learned from Jeremiah that aliens like very loud lullabies. There were big plows and other equipment moving around the lot where we were riding. They were picking up steel plates, trying to clear the snow away. They made back-up beeping noises, loud motors roared and metal plates scraped on the ground. ET just thought it was soothing background noise and he got sleepier and sleepier, until finally it was hard to get him to wake up. But Jeremiah assured me that he didn’t want to wake up, so I shouldn’t worry about it. Luckily, he liked hearing stories in his sleep and he even talked in his sleep, so he was still good company.
Jeremiah was getting to be a really good rider. If he got a little boost to get going, he could ride for 600’ or more at a time. He could stop and go more or less where he intended to go. When I suggested that we might be done with bike school, he looked really disappointed. He said he wanted to keep coming to bike lessons forever, and I had to admit I felt pretty much the same way. I said “You all will decide what to do but, in case you decide to come back, ET and I will both be delighted to see you again.” (SMcL)
Learning to Ride in a Hurricane - August 22, 2021
Hurricane Henri was coming through Boston and everyone was worried about it.
I got a message from my 10:00 family that they wanted to cancel because of the weather. I looked on the schedule and this was their only lesson, and I'm booking out two months into the future. So I wrote, encouraging them to try to come and told them how much my 8am girl had enjoyed the rain, until it finally got too much and we shortened her lesson. But she was riding by then.
In the notes the mother wrote when she signed her daughter up, she said that she was good with a balance bike but that, as soon as the pedals were on, she was too scared to do it.
I don't know what made me call them, but I was really worried about how long they would have to wait if they didn't come in today. The mother turned me over to the dad and I asked him if they had asked the girl and he said yes. I could hear her on the phone yelling "No! No!" I suggested the idea that we might tell her that we only wanted her to try it for 5 minutes and that, if after that she wanted to stop, there would be no problem. We'd just call if off. Then her dad promised to take her to get donuts on the way home, so we had a deal and they said they'd come.
We met at the parking lot, to give her less time to get worried about it. She was pretty shy and didn't say anything. I showed her the rain suit I brought for her, but she preferred her own. I had my yellow rain jacket and pants on, with my rain hat. We put the pads over her rain suit. I asked her which bike she wanted to start on and she chose mine, Blueberry, a little 16" wheel upright bike. I took the pedals off and put the crank pads on and asked her to show me how she could balance. She was pretty good and it didn't take her long to do the 5 long stretches with no feet on the ground that earned her the pedals. When I asked her if she wanted them, she asked to do a couple more rounds of balance, which was fine with me. Then she decided she could try the pedals.
She was a little hesitant, so I asked if she'd like to put a little yellow duck on the handlebars with a helmet with a whirligig on top, and she did think that would be a nice addition. So I strapped it on and it twirled away as she rode around with one foot on the pedal.
She was a pretty nervous kid. If she ever made the slightest misstep, maybe her foot would fall off the pedal, she would gasp and pant as if she'd almost fallen off a cliff. One time, when that happened, I asked the duck if she had been scared and the duck answered that she'd felt fine since the girl was so good at catching the bike. The girl leaned over and hugged the little duck and said that she loved her.
She liked me to hold her jacket between the shoulders. The idea was that, if she started to fall, I could catch her and it made her feel safe. A few times I asked if it would be okay for me to let go of it, but she said no, so I hung on.
The rain was coming down pretty hard but we were both having a good time. She said to me "You're a lot of fun with a bike." Before long she got her second foot up on the second pedal. I suggested she just sit there like the Queen of England. Her dad said that she liked Egypt better, so it was the Queen of Egypt from then on. A little later she started pedaling a bit, but she usually lost her balance when she tried. That would get her really scared. She never came close to falling over, but she did not like the least feeling of being off balance. I said "If you're going to pedal, do it in slow motion." That seemed to help. Before long she was pedaling around happily in the pouring rain. I kept asking if I could let go of her jacket and finally she almost whispered "Okay." So I let go of her for a few seconds at a time.
They had spent a lot of money on a really "nice" bike that becomes a balance bike, with no cranks or pedals, but the handlebars were low and the bike was long, so she had to lean way over to ride, which is a lot harder than riding sitting up. I suggested to the dad that he try to get some higher bars put on, so it would be more like Blueberry. They also have a heavy bike at home that looks like Blueberry. I said "Heavy is less important than low bars, so give it a try."
When we were done, she was smiling ear to ear as they headed off for their donuts. (SMcL)
Hurricane Henri was coming through Boston and everyone was worried about it.
I got a message from my 10:00 family that they wanted to cancel because of the weather. I looked on the schedule and this was their only lesson, and I'm booking out two months into the future. So I wrote, encouraging them to try to come and told them how much my 8am girl had enjoyed the rain, until it finally got too much and we shortened her lesson. But she was riding by then.
In the notes the mother wrote when she signed her daughter up, she said that she was good with a balance bike but that, as soon as the pedals were on, she was too scared to do it.
I don't know what made me call them, but I was really worried about how long they would have to wait if they didn't come in today. The mother turned me over to the dad and I asked him if they had asked the girl and he said yes. I could hear her on the phone yelling "No! No!" I suggested the idea that we might tell her that we only wanted her to try it for 5 minutes and that, if after that she wanted to stop, there would be no problem. We'd just call if off. Then her dad promised to take her to get donuts on the way home, so we had a deal and they said they'd come.
We met at the parking lot, to give her less time to get worried about it. She was pretty shy and didn't say anything. I showed her the rain suit I brought for her, but she preferred her own. I had my yellow rain jacket and pants on, with my rain hat. We put the pads over her rain suit. I asked her which bike she wanted to start on and she chose mine, Blueberry, a little 16" wheel upright bike. I took the pedals off and put the crank pads on and asked her to show me how she could balance. She was pretty good and it didn't take her long to do the 5 long stretches with no feet on the ground that earned her the pedals. When I asked her if she wanted them, she asked to do a couple more rounds of balance, which was fine with me. Then she decided she could try the pedals.
She was a little hesitant, so I asked if she'd like to put a little yellow duck on the handlebars with a helmet with a whirligig on top, and she did think that would be a nice addition. So I strapped it on and it twirled away as she rode around with one foot on the pedal.
She was a pretty nervous kid. If she ever made the slightest misstep, maybe her foot would fall off the pedal, she would gasp and pant as if she'd almost fallen off a cliff. One time, when that happened, I asked the duck if she had been scared and the duck answered that she'd felt fine since the girl was so good at catching the bike. The girl leaned over and hugged the little duck and said that she loved her.
She liked me to hold her jacket between the shoulders. The idea was that, if she started to fall, I could catch her and it made her feel safe. A few times I asked if it would be okay for me to let go of it, but she said no, so I hung on.
The rain was coming down pretty hard but we were both having a good time. She said to me "You're a lot of fun with a bike." Before long she got her second foot up on the second pedal. I suggested she just sit there like the Queen of England. Her dad said that she liked Egypt better, so it was the Queen of Egypt from then on. A little later she started pedaling a bit, but she usually lost her balance when she tried. That would get her really scared. She never came close to falling over, but she did not like the least feeling of being off balance. I said "If you're going to pedal, do it in slow motion." That seemed to help. Before long she was pedaling around happily in the pouring rain. I kept asking if I could let go of her jacket and finally she almost whispered "Okay." So I let go of her for a few seconds at a time.
They had spent a lot of money on a really "nice" bike that becomes a balance bike, with no cranks or pedals, but the handlebars were low and the bike was long, so she had to lean way over to ride, which is a lot harder than riding sitting up. I suggested to the dad that he try to get some higher bars put on, so it would be more like Blueberry. They also have a heavy bike at home that looks like Blueberry. I said "Heavy is less important than low bars, so give it a try."
When we were done, she was smiling ear to ear as they headed off for their donuts. (SMcL)
Thomas
Thomas is 8 and he can’t wait to be a teenager. He is very interested in people’s ages, especially mine, since I’m 72.
When he first got to the bike school, he was saying he didn’t want to be here and asking his mom to take him right home. She was not going for it.
Over at the parking lot where we work, he insisted on riding his own bike, complete with training wheels for the first 10 minutes, and his mother thought that was a good idea. After a while I got him on one of my bikes, one that was way too small for him but made him feel comfortable. We walked Nightshade around the lot for a while and then I asked him to try to pick his feet up a little. Eventually he did start doing that. When he went a foot or two with his feet off the ground he would say “I’m so brave!” and I agreed. By the end of the first lesson, he might have gotten 5 feet with his feet off the ground. Nightshade was beginning to make fun of his bike for having training wheels. I did not encourage this behavior. I told Thomas we try to be nice to each other in the bike school. But Nightshade kept making snide remarks, in spite of my best efforts.
At the end of the first lesson, Thomas told me it was kind of fun.
There was something on the side of the building near our lot and he asked me what it was for. It was red and looked like something to turn. It was probably a standpipe for fighting fires. I said I didn’t know but maybe, if you turned it, the building would explode. He kept asking about that and I told him I was just joking, but I heard lots about the building exploding during that lesson. Meanwhile, while we talked, he was turning the bike the way it was leaning and going longer stretches with his feet off the ground. He probably could go 5 or 10 feet by the end of the second lesson.
At our third lesson, we talked a lot about the history of the bike school. He made me do the math and I discovered that I had started teaching bike riding when I was 36 and that I’ve been doing it 36 years now. So half my life I’ve been teaching people how to ride. He asked what would happen to the bike school when I died. His mother heard this and told him “We don’t talk about things like that.” So he revised his question. “What will happen to the bike school when you’re about to die?” I said, “I’ll be on my death bed and I’ll say to Aaron, my other teacher, ‘Be sure everyone learns to ride!’” (He liked my very old-sounding voice.) Meanwhile, with each tour of the parking lot, he was getting longer stretches with his feet up. Sometimes I would tell him “Thomas, your foot just went down but you forgot to turn that way” and he would do it and get some more balance.
Then he asked what the bike school would look like in 200 years. What would his current bike Quick Silver look like in 200 years? “Well, it will be kind of rusty and it’ll have some more little scrapes in the paint. Actually, it might have already gone to recycling and it’ll be a new bike, hopefully teaching people how to ride at the new bike school.” He asked who would be teaching and I said “When I die maybe Aaron will take over, maybe with help from AbdurRehman, and they’ll find new people who are younger than them and then they’ll teach other people to teach and they’ll keep it going like that.”
Thomas had a deal with his parents that he could get a nuclear bomb for a video game if he learned to ride and, when he was getting discouraged during his second lesson, the deal got revised so that he could get the nuclear bomb even if he just did his very best to learn to ride. I told him that it was all right for him to have whatever deal he had with his parents but, if they wanted to put a testimonial on the website, I was going to censor the part about the nuclear bomb deal. He asked what censoring was and I explained. I said the bike school was a non-violent place. He asked what that was. “It’s people being nice to each other.” He said “You mean like, at recess, if someone doesn’t have anyone to play with, I might tell them that they could play with me?” I said exactly. “What’s violence?” “You know, hitting people, cutting their arms off, fighting, stuff like that.” He asked “Cutting off their heads?” I said “Yes indeed! That’s even more violent!” He continued to list all the ways people could be violent to each other, blowing up houses, shooting people… All the while, he was getting better at turning the way he was leaning. I was getting pretty excited, if a little tired from pushing him all over the parking lot.
By the middle of our third lesson, he did 5 stretches of 60 feet each and got his pedals on. I told him not to hurry that second foot but just to ride around with one foot on the pedal for a while. He did that and got pretty good at it. Then he tried putting his second foot up, but it always made him lose his balance. I said “Put your foot up little by little. Creep it up, so you keep your balance all the way.” Pretty soon he was doing it. Even when he was pedaling, he still liked having my hand on his back, adding a little extra momentum. But by the end of the lesson, he did a little pedaling on his own!
He was pretty happy and his mother was really happy. He was eager to get home and get his nuclear bomb. I said to myself “Whatever works.” July 24, 2021 (SMcL)
Thomas is 8 and he can’t wait to be a teenager. He is very interested in people’s ages, especially mine, since I’m 72.
When he first got to the bike school, he was saying he didn’t want to be here and asking his mom to take him right home. She was not going for it.
Over at the parking lot where we work, he insisted on riding his own bike, complete with training wheels for the first 10 minutes, and his mother thought that was a good idea. After a while I got him on one of my bikes, one that was way too small for him but made him feel comfortable. We walked Nightshade around the lot for a while and then I asked him to try to pick his feet up a little. Eventually he did start doing that. When he went a foot or two with his feet off the ground he would say “I’m so brave!” and I agreed. By the end of the first lesson, he might have gotten 5 feet with his feet off the ground. Nightshade was beginning to make fun of his bike for having training wheels. I did not encourage this behavior. I told Thomas we try to be nice to each other in the bike school. But Nightshade kept making snide remarks, in spite of my best efforts.
At the end of the first lesson, Thomas told me it was kind of fun.
There was something on the side of the building near our lot and he asked me what it was for. It was red and looked like something to turn. It was probably a standpipe for fighting fires. I said I didn’t know but maybe, if you turned it, the building would explode. He kept asking about that and I told him I was just joking, but I heard lots about the building exploding during that lesson. Meanwhile, while we talked, he was turning the bike the way it was leaning and going longer stretches with his feet off the ground. He probably could go 5 or 10 feet by the end of the second lesson.
At our third lesson, we talked a lot about the history of the bike school. He made me do the math and I discovered that I had started teaching bike riding when I was 36 and that I’ve been doing it 36 years now. So half my life I’ve been teaching people how to ride. He asked what would happen to the bike school when I died. His mother heard this and told him “We don’t talk about things like that.” So he revised his question. “What will happen to the bike school when you’re about to die?” I said, “I’ll be on my death bed and I’ll say to Aaron, my other teacher, ‘Be sure everyone learns to ride!’” (He liked my very old-sounding voice.) Meanwhile, with each tour of the parking lot, he was getting longer stretches with his feet up. Sometimes I would tell him “Thomas, your foot just went down but you forgot to turn that way” and he would do it and get some more balance.
Then he asked what the bike school would look like in 200 years. What would his current bike Quick Silver look like in 200 years? “Well, it will be kind of rusty and it’ll have some more little scrapes in the paint. Actually, it might have already gone to recycling and it’ll be a new bike, hopefully teaching people how to ride at the new bike school.” He asked who would be teaching and I said “When I die maybe Aaron will take over, maybe with help from AbdurRehman, and they’ll find new people who are younger than them and then they’ll teach other people to teach and they’ll keep it going like that.”
Thomas had a deal with his parents that he could get a nuclear bomb for a video game if he learned to ride and, when he was getting discouraged during his second lesson, the deal got revised so that he could get the nuclear bomb even if he just did his very best to learn to ride. I told him that it was all right for him to have whatever deal he had with his parents but, if they wanted to put a testimonial on the website, I was going to censor the part about the nuclear bomb deal. He asked what censoring was and I explained. I said the bike school was a non-violent place. He asked what that was. “It’s people being nice to each other.” He said “You mean like, at recess, if someone doesn’t have anyone to play with, I might tell them that they could play with me?” I said exactly. “What’s violence?” “You know, hitting people, cutting their arms off, fighting, stuff like that.” He asked “Cutting off their heads?” I said “Yes indeed! That’s even more violent!” He continued to list all the ways people could be violent to each other, blowing up houses, shooting people… All the while, he was getting better at turning the way he was leaning. I was getting pretty excited, if a little tired from pushing him all over the parking lot.
By the middle of our third lesson, he did 5 stretches of 60 feet each and got his pedals on. I told him not to hurry that second foot but just to ride around with one foot on the pedal for a while. He did that and got pretty good at it. Then he tried putting his second foot up, but it always made him lose his balance. I said “Put your foot up little by little. Creep it up, so you keep your balance all the way.” Pretty soon he was doing it. Even when he was pedaling, he still liked having my hand on his back, adding a little extra momentum. But by the end of the lesson, he did a little pedaling on his own!
He was pretty happy and his mother was really happy. He was eager to get home and get his nuclear bomb. I said to myself “Whatever works.” July 24, 2021 (SMcL)
Lilah
While kids are getting their balance at bike school, we have lots of time for conversation, as I push them up the hill and they roll down. Nine-year-old Lilah buys into my system of bikes with names and personalities. My knowledge of my fleet was put to the test yesterday.
She said “I have some questions about your bikes. Which one is the happiest?” I told her it was probably Big Blue, my smallest bike. Then she said “Which one is the most mischievous?” I had to think a minute, but answered that it was Quick Silver, the bike she started out on. “Which one likes to get dirty the most?” That was easy, it’s Silvie.
“Which one likes to travel the most?” I said it was probably Blueberry, since a kid had told me a couple of years ago that Blueberry wanted to leave the bike school and move to Hawaii. She said Mr. Gears, who she was riding at the time, had told her that he wanted to leave his work here and move to Australia! I was shocked and wondered why. I will be keeping an eye on him. (Blueberry is still here.)
Lilah had struggled with learning to ride a bike for quite a while. In our lesson today, she earned her pedals by doing 5 perfect long stretches of balance with no feet touching the ground, but she preferred to do more practice balancing, so that’s what we did. Besides giving her more confidence in her balancing, it also gave us time to keep talking about the bikes.
I can’t wait to see how she likes the pedals. I bet she’ll be happily pedaling around early in her next lesson. Luckily, she likes her breaks, so we’ll have plenty of time for conversation. August 1, 2019 (SMcL)
While kids are getting their balance at bike school, we have lots of time for conversation, as I push them up the hill and they roll down. Nine-year-old Lilah buys into my system of bikes with names and personalities. My knowledge of my fleet was put to the test yesterday.
She said “I have some questions about your bikes. Which one is the happiest?” I told her it was probably Big Blue, my smallest bike. Then she said “Which one is the most mischievous?” I had to think a minute, but answered that it was Quick Silver, the bike she started out on. “Which one likes to get dirty the most?” That was easy, it’s Silvie.
“Which one likes to travel the most?” I said it was probably Blueberry, since a kid had told me a couple of years ago that Blueberry wanted to leave the bike school and move to Hawaii. She said Mr. Gears, who she was riding at the time, had told her that he wanted to leave his work here and move to Australia! I was shocked and wondered why. I will be keeping an eye on him. (Blueberry is still here.)
Lilah had struggled with learning to ride a bike for quite a while. In our lesson today, she earned her pedals by doing 5 perfect long stretches of balance with no feet touching the ground, but she preferred to do more practice balancing, so that’s what we did. Besides giving her more confidence in her balancing, it also gave us time to keep talking about the bikes.
I can’t wait to see how she likes the pedals. I bet she’ll be happily pedaling around early in her next lesson. Luckily, she likes her breaks, so we’ll have plenty of time for conversation. August 1, 2019 (SMcL)
Andreas
Andreas is a timid kid. He has autism and was very nervous when he arrived for his bicycle riding lesson. He didn’t relish using the pulley to open the garage door, but he did it, once we told him how, and smiled a bit.
We chose a bike for him, Mr. Gears, and walked down to the dentists’ parking lot, 4 blocks. I tried to make conversation with him and his stepdad, Willie, had to prompt him to answer me. He was lagging behind us, walking slowly and not wanting to talk.
We put all his pads on and started the lesson. I asked him to turn the bars the way he was leaning and try to keep his feet up a bit, but he just walked around, with the bike under him. We kept telling him to sit down and I finally pushed his shoulder gently to make him sit and threatened to glue his butt to the seat, but I didn’t get a smile from him and Willie explained that I was joking with him.
After a few times around the lot where he did not get his feet off the ground a bit, I asked him if he would like a harness, something around his chest that would let me hold him and be totally sure that he wouldn’t fall down, and he said yes, very quickly.
With the harness, he kept doing the same thing, though he might have been sitting down more, but his feet were always on the ground.
Willie had an idea. He held the harness and asked Andreas to hold his feet off the ground and he did. We said “That’s what we want.” He said, walk 3 steps and then take your feet off. (I’d never thought of that, and it worked nicely.) Andreas started counting “One, two, three - feet up.” And he did it. I worked with him like that for about 5 minutes. Andreas asked how much longer he had to do. We said we have plenty of time left, and he was disappointed.
My back really doesn’t like working with the harness, so I asked Willie if his back was good, and he said it was. I asked him to take a try on the harness and he was happy to join in. He was really good!
I walked right beside them, saying “Push a little harder. This is uphill” and “Don’t touch the handle bars.” After a few minutes like that, Andreas was getting his feet off the ground for a few seconds at a time. We kept telling him “Turn the way you’re leaning.” It was hard for him to do. When I asked him, “If you lean this way, what do you do?” he would answer right, but he couldn’t do it in the moment. He kept saying how hard it was. I said “You’re getting better” and he was, little by little.
I took over the harness, since I am the one supposedly doing the lesson, but very soon Andreas asked Willie to take it back. I joked “You don’t trust me?” and he said “Right.” Actually, it worked well for my 70-year old back. Willie was really good; he had the right touch, pulling the right amount on the harness (not too much) and he was encouraging him very nicely.
After a while, Andreas did a little turning that let him go a few yards with his feet up. He said “It’s really scary, turning like that.” I said “Yes, it really is, but you’re practicing and it will get less scary.” And that’s what happened. After a few more minutes, he did a whole circle, with Willie holding the harness, but not too hard. He was really getting the feel of it. Now he was happy. He was beaming and saying “I’m doing it! Did you see?” Willie said, “You sure are! It’s great!”
Just as it was about time to go, he got a long stretch where he made a big turn one way and then went the other way, which showed he was really getting the hang of it. A couple times, after we had said the next one would be the last one, he asked if we could do one more and said “This is fun!”
On the way home, he was skipping ahead, literally jumping for joy.
I can’t wait for next Sunday to see how much better he gets and how it makes him feel. (S McL 2019)
Bike Poem
I wrote this poem to summarize my method of teaching biking and why I want to do it. (S McL)
Learning to ride a bike can be good
If you just take it easy and do as you should
Take off the pedals and set the seat low
Feet flat on the ground. Now you’re ready to go.
Push off, roll gently and turn toward your lean
Be one with the bike, if you know what I mean.
Be humble and don’t get in mind where to go
Let the bike decide, and just take it slow.
Try to relax. It’s supposed to be fun.
Take it slow; take it easy, in the rain or the sun.
Once you master the balance, it’s time to pedal
And you’re going to feel like you’ve won a gold medal.
If you follow the bike and just go with the flow
It will finish by going where you want to go.
If we all ride bikes, when it isn’t too far
We can go a long way toward replacing the car.
Then our planet will thrive, the endangered rebound
And we’ll smile to remember we turned it around.
Andreas is a timid kid. He has autism and was very nervous when he arrived for his bicycle riding lesson. He didn’t relish using the pulley to open the garage door, but he did it, once we told him how, and smiled a bit.
We chose a bike for him, Mr. Gears, and walked down to the dentists’ parking lot, 4 blocks. I tried to make conversation with him and his stepdad, Willie, had to prompt him to answer me. He was lagging behind us, walking slowly and not wanting to talk.
We put all his pads on and started the lesson. I asked him to turn the bars the way he was leaning and try to keep his feet up a bit, but he just walked around, with the bike under him. We kept telling him to sit down and I finally pushed his shoulder gently to make him sit and threatened to glue his butt to the seat, but I didn’t get a smile from him and Willie explained that I was joking with him.
After a few times around the lot where he did not get his feet off the ground a bit, I asked him if he would like a harness, something around his chest that would let me hold him and be totally sure that he wouldn’t fall down, and he said yes, very quickly.
With the harness, he kept doing the same thing, though he might have been sitting down more, but his feet were always on the ground.
Willie had an idea. He held the harness and asked Andreas to hold his feet off the ground and he did. We said “That’s what we want.” He said, walk 3 steps and then take your feet off. (I’d never thought of that, and it worked nicely.) Andreas started counting “One, two, three - feet up.” And he did it. I worked with him like that for about 5 minutes. Andreas asked how much longer he had to do. We said we have plenty of time left, and he was disappointed.
My back really doesn’t like working with the harness, so I asked Willie if his back was good, and he said it was. I asked him to take a try on the harness and he was happy to join in. He was really good!
I walked right beside them, saying “Push a little harder. This is uphill” and “Don’t touch the handle bars.” After a few minutes like that, Andreas was getting his feet off the ground for a few seconds at a time. We kept telling him “Turn the way you’re leaning.” It was hard for him to do. When I asked him, “If you lean this way, what do you do?” he would answer right, but he couldn’t do it in the moment. He kept saying how hard it was. I said “You’re getting better” and he was, little by little.
I took over the harness, since I am the one supposedly doing the lesson, but very soon Andreas asked Willie to take it back. I joked “You don’t trust me?” and he said “Right.” Actually, it worked well for my 70-year old back. Willie was really good; he had the right touch, pulling the right amount on the harness (not too much) and he was encouraging him very nicely.
After a while, Andreas did a little turning that let him go a few yards with his feet up. He said “It’s really scary, turning like that.” I said “Yes, it really is, but you’re practicing and it will get less scary.” And that’s what happened. After a few more minutes, he did a whole circle, with Willie holding the harness, but not too hard. He was really getting the feel of it. Now he was happy. He was beaming and saying “I’m doing it! Did you see?” Willie said, “You sure are! It’s great!”
Just as it was about time to go, he got a long stretch where he made a big turn one way and then went the other way, which showed he was really getting the hang of it. A couple times, after we had said the next one would be the last one, he asked if we could do one more and said “This is fun!”
On the way home, he was skipping ahead, literally jumping for joy.
I can’t wait for next Sunday to see how much better he gets and how it makes him feel. (S McL 2019)
Bike Poem
I wrote this poem to summarize my method of teaching biking and why I want to do it. (S McL)
Learning to ride a bike can be good
If you just take it easy and do as you should
Take off the pedals and set the seat low
Feet flat on the ground. Now you’re ready to go.
Push off, roll gently and turn toward your lean
Be one with the bike, if you know what I mean.
Be humble and don’t get in mind where to go
Let the bike decide, and just take it slow.
Try to relax. It’s supposed to be fun.
Take it slow; take it easy, in the rain or the sun.
Once you master the balance, it’s time to pedal
And you’re going to feel like you’ve won a gold medal.
If you follow the bike and just go with the flow
It will finish by going where you want to go.
If we all ride bikes, when it isn’t too far
We can go a long way toward replacing the car.
Then our planet will thrive, the endangered rebound
And we’ll smile to remember we turned it around.
Leo
Leo was a 6 year old who came to bike school with his mother and brother, who already knew how to ride a bike. They brought Leo’s bike, which was too big for him to learn on. He could just touch the ground on tip toes, if he sat on the seat. I invited them to look at some of my bikes and proposed Blueberry, the longest-term kids bike in my fleet. He hated it immediately. His mom asked him to sit on the seat and he refused. He started making fun of it. With utter contempt he said it was a baby bike and it was dirty and old. He wouldn't get on it to try out the size, so his mom picked him up and put him on, kicking and screaming. I said “Let’s leave your bikes here in the barn and take Blueberry and, just in case he has trouble, Mango, a slightly smaller bike.
He said he did not want his bike in my dirty old barn with all those stupid bikes and mocked the whole idea of a bike school. His mom had taken Blueberry to their car and we had both the boys’ bikes in my barn, but the boys ran back to the car with their bikes. Leo was crying and carrying on. He did not want to be here. He did not care about riding bikes.
His mother was unmoved. She told him we were going. I really wondered if this was going to work out. She helped me get their bikes back in my barn and off we went to the little parking lot by the abandoned auto body business in the neighborhood.
I had brought knee pads, elbow pads and gloves for Leo but he would not put them on. He did not need them and would not wear them. His mom and I decided to pick our battles and let him try it without them, though I was really worried, because falling and skinning a knee is what gets a lot of people turned off to biking for decades at a time. But it seemed as if we would fight over the pads for a long time, so we let him try it without them.
I started out by telling him about the brakes and he said he knew all about the brakes. Then I told him he should push off, when he was ready, and I would push him along while he tried to get his balance. He should turn the handle bars whichever way he was leaning. We started out and he did much better than I thought he would. He said it was very boring, but he was getting some balance. He kept saying how boring it was and asking how much longer he would have to do it. I said we’d just started and that he was doing great.
He did fall a few times, but he always said “I’m okay” and got up and got back on. He stopped saying it was boring after a little while. I explained that, after he’d gone across the yard 5 times with no feet on the ground, he could have his pedals, if he wanted them. He was turning all over the place and getting his balance pretty well. He wasn’t saying anything.
After about 40 minutes, he had gone across the yard 5 times with no feet on the ground. I asked him if he wanted pedals and he said “Yes!” Most people decide to do a few extra runs, for good measure, but not this kid. So we put the pedals on. I told him to start out with his foot on one pedal and to get his balance like that first, before putting his second foot on. We went around like that for a while and before long that second foot went up and he started pedaling. He fell quite a few times, but it didn’t bother him. He jumped up and said he was fine and went right back to it.
When it was time to go, he asked if he could do just one more round and we said “yes,” of course.
When we got back to the house, his mom asked him to say “thank you” to me. With great exasperation, he said “We always have to say thank you for everything!” His mom thanked me very sweetly and they left with their bikes.
One more bicycle rider launched into a life time of biking joy. (S McL, 2017)
Teaching Oliver
Oliver was a 7 year old with special needs. He’d seen an occupational therapist and he was having a hard time adjusting to second grade. He and his 5 year old sister came for bike lessons. The sister was normally cautious plus very attached to her mom, so I let them work together to get her balance and the mother did a good job helping her.
I tried to show Oliver how to balance. He was like a rag doll. He fell more often than I’ve ever seen a kid fall. It wasn’t bothering him, but he was not getting any balance to speak of. When he turned the wheel, he turned it too far and down he would go. He lay on the ground for a long time and seemed to enjoy the drama of it all, but he was not learning to ride.
Most people naturally put their feet down to catch themselves if they start to fall, but that instinct was missing in Oliver. When I first told him to put his feet down he said “You never told me that!” So I suggested we try the harness.
He gladly accepted the offer of a sky hook and we worked with that, with me pulling up gently on his back and then pulling up hard when he started to fall. Now he was using his feet even less to catch himself. He figured “Why bother when Susan’s got me?” A few times he fell and I almost stepped on him or fell on top of him. It was killing my back, but he was getting a little balance, but, with how strong my back is, it wasn’t going to work.
For the next lesson, I called in the big guns, David, my new teacher this year who’s big and strong.
The lesson didn’t start out well. Oliver was in a bad mood and he was talking about wanting to ride down the ramp toward the sidewalk and street. I said “No way!” He went off on his own and his mom suggested we leave him to himself for a while. When she talked to him in a few minutes, it turned out that he was bound and determined to ride down that ramp and he promised that, if he were allowed to try that, he’d get to work with David and the harness. I decided “Whatever works...” and we stationed all 3 grown-ups at the bottom of the ramp and let him try it out. He didn’t get to the bottom and to us before he fell, but he was gratified because that was what he’d been wanting to do.
So then he put the harness on and David started pushing him around, holding him up pretty firmly and, when he started to fall, not letting him. He started to get the hang of it. Gradually David pulled up less and less and Oliver was balancing more. On their long stretches of part balance and part being held up, they saw the world, as together they gave names to all the regions of the schoolyard where Oliver was learning to ride. They visited the Pyramids, the Eiffel Tower, the Grand Canyon and had a really fun time together. Oliver was smiling a lot. David made what had been a dreaded task into a fun time and I knew that Oliver would get riding before too long.
I’m so glad I have the harness and someone strong and sensitive to use it in just the right way with really challenging kids.
Oliver did get riding after about five more lessons. He was very proud of himself and he put his feet down when he was starting to fall. (S McL)
Citizen Diplomacy
Kids' bike camp became inter-generational today when the aunt of our one students who was enrolled said that she didn't know how to ride either. She was a boat person from Vietnam who spend 2 years in a refugee camp in Malaysia. I was happy to have the chance to apologize for all the damage that our country did to her country, much of it ongoing, because of all the Agent Orange that was dropped, which is still causing birth defects and cancer. She and her niece both got their balance and learned to pedal during the class and feel very accomplished. (S McL)
Mariposa
One of our students took a little while to get biking and to get comfortable. So we did quite a few classes at the school yard before she was ready to tackle the bike path. We did a couple of times there and, on one of them, we had another student who was struggling even more who rode her same bike, so we asked her to take another one. At first it wasn't that comfortable for her, but she adapted. It was a new one in the fleet and I told her that she could name it, if anything occurred to her. When she got back from the lesson, she had a name for it: Mariposa, butterfly in Spanish, which she said stood for endurance, change, hope and life. (S McL)
Bike school in the rain
Everybody learns to ride at their own pace. I have a student from Ethiopia these days who's having a little bit of a harder time picking it up than some people. She started in a class that went off to the path, but she wasn't ready to join them. Plus her schedule is pretty full. We've been struggling to find times when she could come in to get some extra time at the schoolyard. The other day we made an appointment in the evening, after work, and it rained. We were both disappointed, but she came. She was a little cold when she got here so I gave her some snow pants and a heavy jacket that warmed her right up. We thought about it for a few minutes and then decided to see what we could do. It was raining pretty hard, but we were both warm. She made really good progress, getting a stronger push-off and going around in circles many times. It was the first time she'd gone long stretches and we were both very happy. When we got home, I gave her some dry socks and sent her off, feeling very accomplished. She's coming again tonight and it's supposed to rain!
I can remember another student, years ago, whose class was canceled because of rain, but she wanted to get some extra practice in, so she came anyway. That was the day she caught up with her class. (S McL)
"Follow your dream"
I taught two brothers recently, 6 years old. One, especially, had a hard time getting his balance and was very nervous. I used the harness, so I could convince him he wouldn't fall. It's not great for my back, but it's great for kids who are really scared, having a gentle pull up and then, if they start to fall, a serious pull up. Their mom mostly helped the brother who wasn't quite as scared and they both got a little balance, but both the mother and I thought it might be a long process. But on the second lesson, right from the start, the kid who had had the most trouble and fear the first time, all of a sudden had some more balance. He could go a few feet with no feet on the ground. Then he could go a few more. It was getting really exciting. I switched off with the mother and both kids earned their pedals by the end of the class and they were all so happy. The mother couldn't believe it. They wanted to help me name everything. When they heard that most of the bikes already had names, they thought "We could name the bells and the helmets!" But the most fun thing for me was when one of them asked me what I had wanted to be when I grew up, when I was little. I told them I wanted to be a lion tamer. He said to me, "You can still follow your dream. It's not too late." Sweet kid, wanting me to be happy. I told him I had a new dream and I was doing it, running my bike school. (S McL)
Teaching a Reluctant Riding Student
The girl of 8 didn’t speak. She didn’t smile even when invited to ring all the different bells and horns of the dozen bikes in the Bicycle Barn. I chose a bike for her so that she could sit with her feet flat on the ground and her knees a little bit bent. I asked if she liked it and she said nothing. She was willing to take it over to the school yard so we put Nightshade in the back of her mother’s car and went over to our usual spot.
I told her in the car that 2,800 people had already learned how to ride there and she didn’t respond. I said I liked kids who were a little quiet or maybe scared. It made it all the more exciting when they started riding and grinning ear to ear.
I took the pedals off and she sat on the bike but insisted that her mother be right by her. In fact, she didn’t want me to teach her. I tried to show her mother how to push her, but she didn’t get the right speed. We compromised by having both of our hands on her back. I told her to turn the front wheel whichever way she started to lean, but she was basically just walking with the bike under her. I said “Have a seat and see if you can lift your legs a little bit, for just a moment.” She kept walking and I kept saying the same thing, “Sit down. You have to be sitting. Move that wheel a bit.” She was just walking. After 40 minutes or so, she got about a second of balance where her feet were off the ground and she was moving the handle bars to stay up. I said “That’s great! Did you feel it?”
After another 5 minutes of walking around, she did it again. “That’s what we’re talking about! Yea! You’re doing it!” She asked her mother every few minutes how much longer we were going to do. Her mother said “A little more time. You’re getting it.” She kept thinking that a little more time had gone by, but we tried to keep her at it.
An hour or so into the lesson, she started going a few feet at a time. “Is that enough to get the pedals?” she asked. I said “No. You have to go all the way across the school yard and do it 3 times.” “That’s impossible! It’ll never happen!” she said. “If I put the pedals on now, it’ll be frustrating for you,” I answered.
Her mother said she did well with a specific goal. So that became our focus: earning the pedals. She still wasn’t smiling, but she stopped asking how much longer we were going to do. Now the focus was on getting the pedals on. Her stretches got longer and longer and she did one all the way across the yard about an hour and 20 minutes into the lesson. Her mother whispered to me “Your method is impeccable!” We got another 2 long stretches before the end of the hour and a half long lesson, so she was ready for pedals. Now she started talking. I heard all about her favorite books and things to do. My back was hurting from all the leaning over and pushing, but my soul was happy.
The next lesson I made her repeat the 3 long stretches and earn her pedals anew, but it wasn’t long before she got the pedals on and she pedaled right off, smiling all the way. (S McL)
Chipmunk Talk
Teaching bicycle riding sometimes requires surprising skills. I have a 6 year-old student who was convinced he could never learn to ride and said he didn’t like bikes. He is now pedaling a bit, though he still says he’s not good at it.
From time to time, he reaches up and touches my side and says “You’re a chipmunk. Talk like a chipmunk.” Luckily, I remember Alvin and the Chipmunks and do my best to talk like a chipmunk. If I revert to regular talk, he complains and says “Don’t forget! Talk like a chipmunk!” It seems to make it more fun for him. I don’t mind saying “Go left! Go right! You can do it!” in a high voice if that makes him want to come to bike lessons more, and his mom says that she doesn’t have to push him to come anymore. He now likes his bike lessons. Plus I like talking like a chipmunk. When I was in education graduate school, they didn’t teach us this, but I’m filling in the gaps in my formal education as I go along. (S McL)
Teaching bicycle riding sometimes requires surprising skills. I have a 6 year-old student who was convinced he could never learn to ride and said he didn’t like bikes. He is now pedaling a bit, though he still says he’s not good at it.
From time to time, he reaches up and touches my side and says “You’re a chipmunk. Talk like a chipmunk.” Luckily, I remember Alvin and the Chipmunks and do my best to talk like a chipmunk. If I revert to regular talk, he complains and says “Don’t forget! Talk like a chipmunk!” It seems to make it more fun for him. I don’t mind saying “Go left! Go right! You can do it!” in a high voice if that makes him want to come to bike lessons more, and his mom says that she doesn’t have to push him to come anymore. He now likes his bike lessons. Plus I like talking like a chipmunk. When I was in education graduate school, they didn’t teach us this, but I’m filling in the gaps in my formal education as I go along. (S McL)