Last week a class of kids was doing flutter kicks — one of the most miserable core exercises there is. They were laughing. Here's why: I told them the floor was made of hot lava.
That's it. That's the whole trick. The floor is lava, you can't touch it, and suddenly a brutal ab workout becomes a game. They're not thinking about how much it burns. They're thinking about survival.
I do this constantly. Horse stance too low? “Think about ninjas. Think about Shaolin kung fu. Think about martial arts and a really low horse stance.” Hook kicks feeling sloppy? “Pretend you're breaking a board.”
Imagination does what yelling never could. A kid who's pretending to be a ninja will hold a stance twice as long as a kid who's just been told to hold a stance. Same muscles. Completely different experience.
And I pair it with something most coaches skip: I actively hunt for things to praise. In the middle of push-ups, I'll say “I'm looking for more people to give compliments to.” Then I find them. Good form here. Great effort there. Specific, real, earned.
Kids work harder for a coach who notices than for a coach who shouts. Every time.
Even the breathing — I don't say “regulate your nervous system.” I say “every time you breathe deep, your brain gets food. You want to be smart? Breathe.” They get it instantly.
The principle is simple: meet kids where they are. They live in imagination. They thrive on encouragement. They understand lava better than lactic acid.
Make it fun and they'll do the hard thing voluntarily. Make it miserable and you'll spend the whole class fighting them instead of training them.
Strength is built, not born.
