The Heart of a Trainer

Recently I have twice been made aware of my inadequacies as an instructor. It wasn’t intentional. And I believe that neither person really believes me to be inadequate. I took the term onto myself, based on what I heard from them. In all my twenty five years of teaching, it never occurred to me what I am lacking.

Both are fellow trainers, riders, and coaches. One has a current lesson program and the other does clinics. Both are wonderful people and friends. But I heard what they said. And I took it to heart, however unintentional it was.

I am a hunter jumper trainer. I am best suited to beginner riders. I love the up/downers just learning to post, the ones learning to canter and navigate a course successfully. Once you master being able to jump a 2’6″-3 course technically correctly and successfully then I am not going to be the trainer to take you beyond that height. I am ok with that. I am more than ok with it. I love the littles, even the adult beginners make me smile with their worries and their joy in the small advancements. Don’t send me an adult that knows their way around a 3′ course. They ask too many questions, have too many fears or too much confidence, and are too high maintenance for me.

I am a certified Level III American Riding Instructor’s Association instructor. I am a graduate pony club student, and I am a student of horsemanship and safety. I am NOT, however, a prior student, rider, or worker of anyone famous, anyone that has shown on the East or West coast, anyone who has jumped in a Grand Prix, or had laborers to make their horses fancy. I was not taught a lot of lateral work or fancy dressage moves. In fact I did not study dressage at all. I did not go to a college dedicated to horse or riding related education. I studied business at Texas A&M University. But when I was 14 I was trusted enough to teach the littles that my own instructors didn’t want to bother with. When I was in college I was hired to teach a show jumper’s small daughter. After college, after six years in the medical event planning world, I was hired to teach beginners at a local stable. I dropped everything and signed up. I found my calling. And I’ve never looked back.

The instructors I learned from in my childhood shaped me in so many positive ways. I learned how to be self-sufficient because my Mom sat in the car during my lessons. Or dropped me off to go with my trainers to shows. I was taught by two of the best people I’ve ever known – a husband and wife team – that taught me how to be and also how NOT to be. I watched other trainers scream and yell and get angry. Mine never did. I watched other riders get frustrated and smack their horses and pull on the reins hard. I was schooled in compassion and empathy instead. I learned how to bathe my own horse, how to wrap his legs, how to clip, how to clean his stall to perfection. I learned never to panic, even when a horse was still wearing a blanket on an 80 degree afternoon. Just go quietly remove it yourself, no hysteria needed. I learned to guide and grow and get on again. I learned to ride when it was 110 or 32 degrees, that drinking water came from the hose and that sweat and dirt made me happy.

I learned that the barn was my happy place. I learned that I wanted to make my own barn a happy place for kids and adults alike. That I wanted my horses to be horses, happy and content and internally always smiling out in their large paddocks with their sheds, grass and a friend.

I learned that presentation matters but not at any cost. I watched other riders with their shiny stirrups and vowed to make mine even shinier. I saw other pony girls show in dirty, torn jodphurs and was appalled. I watched grooms clean muzzles and hooves and boots and copied what they did. I learned that the horse ALWAYS comes first, something my own daughter is still struggling to learn in this entitled world we live in. I learned to wash and condition and brush a tail until it shined.

I learned that I was CAPABLE. From these two trainers, I learned to be kind, patient and compassionate. I learned that HARD CORE and HARD WORK ETHIC are not always the same thing. That disappointment hurts, that dedication and determination are built with time. I learned that safety matters, to get off a crazy horse, your pride isn’t worth the risk. To always wear a helmet because anything can happen. That pride comes in the form of progress and persistence, education and exhaustion from a job well done, not necessarily in ribbons won.

These things are what I teach my own students. I didn’t need to train under someone famous, in an environment I would never have been comfortable in. I didn’t need to leave home, change my address or test my ethics.

One of the most important things I learned is that you don’t have to be wealthy to enjoy this sport. My trainers weren’t wealthy but they were comfortable. They had a house with a lovely barn and yard. Eventually they bought an RV. They were happy and still are. They never had a groom that I know of. As a daughter of a military veteran, we did not have tons of money flowing in either. But my parents did everything they could to encourage my riding. I went to maybe four or five local shows a year. I did not win any major year end awards. I had a medium pony that was diagnosed with navicular disease. I leased two other ponies. Eventually my parents were able to buy me a $1500 thoroughbred off the track that my trainers said was perfect for me, and who would only go backwards at first. I had that horse until he died at 28.

I learned that I wanted to create a barn free of drama, free of high maintenance people. I wanted a safe haven for horses and people alike. I want barn rats, and smiles and friendships. I wanted the love of the horse to be what binds us all together. I wanted the families that would not normally be able to afford this sport. I wanted to teach beginners and intermediate riders everything my own trainers taught me. I now have a house. And a barn and a lovely yard. My husband and I do all the work ourselves. I do not yet have an RV. But I am happy. And so are my students and horses.