It was the beginning of my fourth week teaching here, and I felt it was time to rev things up to another gear, in two areas; their golf games, and their futures. 

Once the Ravens were assembled, I had them sit down on the grass, and I in a folding chair.  `Does anybody know what the BYGA stands for?’   A few knew; the Bhutan Youth Golf Association.  `And do you know that we are teaching you about some things that may be more important than golf?  What do you think those are?’  Discipline came up, as did being respectful.  Those are wonderful answers, and in a sense correct, but not what I was looking for.

From the beginning, I didn’t want to come in here as big North American savior, putting my code on an ancient civilization.  But the world is changing quickly, here and everywhere else.  In the new world, the smart will survive. (I was in the middle of the terrific  best-seller The World is Flat, by Thomas Freidman, a book that shows pretty clearly that it doesn’t much matter where you live anymore, to be an active part of the Global Village).

`The answer I want is, we are speaking English, which is the international language of commerce.’  They could all get by in English, and could understand me to a point. But as expected, when they spoke to one another, it was in Bhutanese.

`From now on, every Wednesday, we will speak only English for the entire session.  Love your language, and speak it always. But for one and a half hours a week, it will be English only’.  `Yes Coach’. I could see in their eyes and body language that they thought it was a good idea, and would give it a shot.  That first session they reverted back to Dzongka alot, but on the whole, I could see them working harder, and using their minds differently to get the point across.

I made a deal that I would learn a new word every week as well.  As the Wednesdays progressed, they took pride in being the one to teach me the new word, always trying to walk the fine-line between too dirty, and hilarious.  For example, Che-you mindabu.  Someone fearlessly asking you for 50ng (about a dollar), has `lost his forehead’ (is not shy).  Somehow this was slightly off color, always evoking a laugh if said by a Chillup), and especially if you made the gesture of putting your fingers together in the middle of your forehead, then almost throwing your forehead out into space.

There is a great website done by a friend here in Thimpu, on learning the Dzonka language. It is a dialect that has evolved from Tibetan.

Finding out who the Real Teacher is:

Probably the most frequent miss with these kids was a hard, straight push to the right.  The problem was that they thought they were cutting across the ball, when in fact they were doing just the opposite, swinging too much from the inside.  I felt that in my short time here, if I could teach them to learn how to learn, then that time was well spent.

Bill Strausbaugh, a well known professional in the states, had a great influence on my career and life.  I stayed in contact with Mr. Strausbaugh through the years, and ran into him at teaching events. At one of the Teaching and Coaching Summits, told me something that every teacher, of every discipline, would do well to remember.  His words were; `Ed, I don’t teach people to play golf. I teach people how to learn to play golf.”  It’s all about instilling that curiosity, and at the same time, a disciplined, almost scientific approach.

So I began this session with: `I am a good teacher. Karma Lam my partner here is a good teacher.  Some of you are good teachers.  But the best teacher in the world is sitting here with us.  Who can find him?

They giggled and looked around.  Tashi suggested there might be a magical ghost.  `No, here is the world’s best teacher’.  And I reached over and picked up a golf ball. `Why is Mr. Titleist the world’s best teacher?   Because he always tells you what you have done. He never lies’.

`What your club is doing through the moment of impact makes the ball do what it does.  If you can learn to read this story that the ball is telling you, you will be a great teacher and a great player.’

I saw them frequently playing a game with a home made ball made of rubber bands.  They kicked and passed it around endlessly, rarely missing.  It dawned on me that another familiar sport to them was soccer; I was inspired one day to describe how the ball is affected by the path and angle of the clubface, using that popular sport.

I had earlier compared the club to a foot, using sole, heel, and toe for learning terms.  So it wasn’t a stretch to bring in soccer. I placed a golf ball on the ground, and put up one of the smaller Buh, and drew a line in the dirt to indicate the all-important `target line’, from the target to the ball.  I extended the line beyond the ball a good 3 feet, and explained the terms `outside’ and `inside’.

`Golf is played to the side of the ball.  The side I am now standing on is called the `inside’.  The other side of that line is the `outside’.  I then walked across to the other side,  and borrowed one of Sonam-Mike Weirs clubs.  `If I am Mike Weir, now which side am I on’. They are bright kids, and all said `the inside, Sir’.

Back to soccer; I walked back to the place a righty would hit from.  Using the sideways kicking style, I showed what a straight shot looked like, with the foot approaching the target line from the inside, to back on the line, to back inside, all the while the foot was gradually closing.  The resulting straight shot came off as expected.

I then drew my foot too much inside the target line, and swung it out to the right after kicking the ball.  The straight right push looked familiar to many of them. Then, I followed the same path with my foot, but snapped my foot shut quickly through impact, the toe of my shoe passing the heel quickly.  The ball rolled weakly  to the left.  I told them that if I had loft on my shoe, and could get it airborne, the spin would cause a hooking ball.

To cover all the bases, I then showed what a real open-face cut shot looked like, across the line, with the heel not passing by the toe.  Again, weak, because at the moment the shoe is on the ball, the foot is causing a glancing blow.

I was satisfied that they understood the path, and to a lesser extent, the face.  Next was learning about the bottom-of-the-arc, again using soccer.  The first kick I made was, again, correct, slightly inside to on the line, to slightly inside again. The brilliant thing about bare dirt, is that you can se the imprint on the ground.  Except for the fact that my shoes had to be cleaned every evening, the dirt was terrific.  It’s the  low- tech precursor to video replay.

Back to the point; on the ideal swing, or kick, my shoe reached the `bottom of the arc’ right where the ball was, not before and not after.  When I made the mistake of too inside-out, (try this yourself), the dirt was moved a good six inches before I got to the ball.  I explained how this meant that I would hit the top of the ball every time, unless I move the ball back in my stance. And when you do that, everything is out of position, and you are stuck in a rut of bad golf.

I wanted to show them the evolution of a swing flaw; the original problem created a resulting compensation, and once you start doing both, you’re locked in.  Those who teach, have encountered the frustration of actually helping somebody create a better motion, but the player gets worse if he or she hasn’t yet let go of the old compensation.

More common with golfers, is a swing that comes from the outside.  That causes the dirt to be scraped left of the ball, resulting in trying to play with a ball that is placed too far forward, and deep, crater like divots will be the result, along with weak, fading shots..

We then did a little drill that I have found to be invaluable in my teaching back home in Nova Scotia.  Take a driver, tee up the ball, but just hit 30 yard chips.  The face and path of the club are much easier to control, and you can see and feel what is happening much easier.  This is learning how to learn.   And for these boys and girls, it was a plus because they didn’t have to walk so far to pick the balls up!