Imagine What’s Possible

Aug 28

Twenty-five years ago, I was invited to attend a camp that was an incubator for the U.S. Women’s Rowing National Team. Along with 19 other athletes from across the United States, I spent two weeks at the Olympic Training Center, vying for a limited number of spots.

I was one of two coxswains—a role often described as the coach in the boat. It was an exciting time. Before I left, a friend gave me a sketchbook with a photo of me and my boat rowing in the Port of Sacramento, the sun on the horizon as our silhouette cut through the water. In a "ransom letter" style, my friend affixed letters cut from magazines to spell out: "The Quest for Sydney 2000." I imagined how I might feel crossing the finish line as an Olympian.

I recently pulled out this sketchbook as I, like so many, got caught up in the 2024 Summer Olympics. "That could have been me," I thought. But as I looked at the faded cover, another thought emerged: "I’m so glad that wasn’t me."

Reality Check on Rowing

Here’s what’s true about my time as a coxswain: I loved it. From my first day in the boat during my freshman year of college, I felt like I was meant for this. I loved the technical, mental, and even spiritual aspects of rowing. But when I reached the elite level, I realized there were sacrifices I didn’t want to make. Primarily, I didn’t want my life to revolve around rowing.

In my final year of college, I balanced my teaching license with my last year of NCAA eligibility. My days were grueling but gratifying: rowing practice at dawn, student teaching during the day, courses in the evening, and prep work at night. I was doing what I loved on all fronts, and I cherished every minute.

In my last week at the Olympic Training Center, a switch flipped: "I’m not having fun," I thought. "I love this, but this is not the life I want." I completed the camp, imagined other possibilities, and began looking for teaching jobs.

A New Path with Many Possibilities

Twenty-five years ago, I set foot in my first classroom as a middle school teacher. I was hired three weeks before school started. From the moment I got hired until my last day in the classroom, I loved teaching, but I missed rowing. So I imagined what might be possible. Soon after I began teaching, I also became a rowing coach at the high school and, eventually, college level. My days were intense, but deeply fulfilling. I loved what I did on all fronts.

About five years into teaching, I ended my time as a rowing coach but faced another choice: leave the classroom to teach teachers or keep focusing on students. I imagined what that might look like, and I chose both. I taught students by day and led workshops for teachers after school and on weekends. I loved every minute of it.

Soon enough, after 20 years in schools, I faced another choice point: stay in schools or work to support schools. I imagined what it would look like to give back to schools, to support leaders, coaches, and teachers. I eventually left my one school so I could support as many schools as possible.

The Thread of Love

As I reflect on the past 25 years, the central theme of my career—from the deep water channel to leading professional learning workshops—is imagination. Imagining what’s possible has led me on a meandering path toward doing what I love. I often used to tell my students, "Your lives may take many paths. There will be suffering and struggle. But at some point in that journey, may you imagine possibilities and be blessed to do what you love."

Being a coxswain, a coach, a teacher, and a leader have all been acts of love. They have allowed me to tap into creativity and imagination, to struggle and be challenged, and to find joy and fulfillment even on the most demanding days.