To the riders who had very, very tough trainers as a kid or teenager...

[Falconfree]

Echoing others, it definitely depends on what you consider “tough”. I’ve had trainers who weren’t heavy on praise, it was saved for when something difficult was done right. They helped me grow a lot, because I wanted to work harder for them. It also helped me to focus on more technical stuff.

OTOH, my very first instructor when I was 8 was terrifying. Looking back as an adult is pretty scary. We did group lessons of 3-8 beginner kids on ponies in this itty bitty round pen (most of the time). The instructor was an old man who would stand in the middle of the pen with a dressage whip, and was constantly cracking it at some pony or another. The ponies were rank as heck, always kicking or biting or bucking (I don’t blame them). If they tried to bolt, he’d start beating them in the chest with his dressage whip. He would regularly scream at us. If it was time to practice trotting, for example, instead of teaching us trot transitions and using aids (admittedly, this must be difficult with little kids who don’t have much leg), he would yell “TROT!” and start cracking the whip at the hindquarters of each pony. At least I got a pretty secure seat from sitting all those bucks and general rankness?

Honestly, I learned more about riding from bareback rides, dinking around the pasture with lesson ponies in a halter when we weren’t having a lesson. Not surprisingly, they were much better behaved out there. I am already someone prone to anxiety, and I think that is the source for my continued fear issues with riding. Even now, if I’m in a lesson and the trainer says to trot, on occasion my heart will be in my throat, and I’ll start shaking. I’ve gotten much better after several great trainers, but sometimes that visceral reminder will still crop up. I wish that I had told my parents what was going on was scaring me to death. I was so afraid I would lose horse time. As an adult, I know there were probably other lesson barns around I could have ridden at, but kids aren’t quite so logical.

[Scribbler]

Fear has never motivated me. I need to figure out my own comfort level and push myself on my own terms. Fear makes me shut down.

And fear of an instructor, which is really fear of social shaming, does nothing, never did. At some profound level I truly do not care what anyone thinks of me in regards to physical challenges, and I cannot be shamed into doing something that scares me. I would rather be humiliated than do something that I think is dangerous.

This was true as a child but I only came to recognize it as an adult. On the other hand I can set my own goals about things that scare me and work through them.

I should add that as a kid, I did not trust adults to know what was safe or reasonable. The horse involved adults were straight out yahoos, brutal to their horses, and the local show barn owner was jailed for serial sexual assault of teen girls. I was already in college and out of the district by then, and had had no contact with him, but it it reinforced that I had been correct to duck the adults and do my own thing.

On the other hand i have always been pretty much fearless, even at times reckless, in intellectual or political debate because when I figure I’m right, I don’t care what anyone thinks either! I have however learned to moderate that, thankfully before the internet age

Now my current coach once said she needs a good adrenalin buzz to just get motivated and ride well. That’s why she is a pro and I am an older re ridriding amateur.
Being able to push through fear and use fear in a productive way is probably 100 % the mark of someone with the potential to go big in competition or to break colts.

If your riding program is meant to find these people and weed out the others, fine. Employ fear, shame, and push.

If however you also want to encourage life long ammie riders who will be good careful compassionate riders and slowly expand their limits, you need other techniques.

You can push for accuracy and correct riding without fear or noise.

I should add that at this point I do not want lessons that are soft or reassuring. I want a lot of feedback. But it needs to be in the context that we are cooperating to school my horse. And I have also learned that in lessons I need to listen to my horse because if you focus on pleasing the coach only you can miss signals from your horse that you are getting harsh. If the coach pushed you and you push the horse, horse gets frustrated, it can spiral down to nothing accomplished.

This is a choice you can and should make on your own horse. It isn’t a choice most coaches will allow on a lesson horse because they believe they know the horse better than you, and you are being silly or slacking off or not riding the horse energetically enough. One reason why lesson programs can dull your horse sense.

[Another-Bay]

Awesome responses.

A lot of you are pushing for a definition of tough, but I am actually not going to do that. I find it more interesting hearing what other people consider tough and seeing the overlap. Of course, this topic can be a bit sensitive as well. Tough and bullying can be a blurred line in some scenarios, depending on who you ask.

What I loved is when it was discussed that a good teacher can also be flexible, meaning his/her style can fluctuate given the situation. One example I can think of is the warm-up ring for the horse show.

I had one trainer that would give me and my horse a full-scale lesson before going in, complete with all the lateral movements and a multiple jump monopoly in an overly-stuffed and hectic warm up ring.

And I swear, it was never helpful. I ended up feeling more nervous, overstimulated, and over-correcting. (This was all in the teenage years, when bringing up these divergence of needs was a very awkward conversation for me).

Anyways, this is good stuff!

[dani0303]

I had a “tough” trainer as a junior. She demanded perfection in every aspect.

Sure, I learned to ride damn well. The downside is along with it came an eating disorder and severe self confidence issues. Ten plus years of being told I’m too fat and not good enough carries severe consequences well into adulthood.

[APirateLooksAtForty]

It is damn near impossible for one single trainer to be responsible for a person’s eating disorder. Where were your parents, friends, school counselors? And why did you stay with the trainer? NOT victim blaming, but I think that eating disorders (and I am well versed in the subject) can rarely be attributed to one single factor and are extremely multi faceted.

[retiredhorse]

With my tough trainer, everything we did was aimed at better communication with the horse. The point wasn’t any one exercise by itself, it was to develop your feel as a rider. But if you were uncertain about an exercise, for me, that little bit of fear – which maybe is the wrong word (so, maybe I should say trust/respect) – meant I shut off my worries and just rode. If I was nervous about a course, and trainer said I don’t want to hear “I can’t,” I had enough trust (and maybe 1% fear of her disapproval) in her to do it. Now, if I were to say, “horse feels not quite ahead of my leg or resistant to the right and that’s why I feel unprepared”, that’s a different thing. Because that means there is a training issue we can work through, and she would like that I knew what I was feeling and what to work on to be able to do that hard exercise.

And like, in general, in this program, you ride without stirrups to develop a strong enough leg so you have independent aids (and in case you lose them on course). Being able to post the trot endlessly without irons was not the end goal. better goal was to be able to jump without irons, so you learn to land in balance and use your leg effectively around a course. You didn’t do it for hours, because trainer knew that was a good way to build the incorrect muscles, when you got tired and started compensating with using the wrong muscles. You did it enough to make the correct muscles work, and then a little bit more the next day, and so on, as you progressed.

Riding without irons was never punishment for anything either. It was a building block – if you didn’t want to practice, that was on you, and only you were hampering your own progress, which she would tell you if you got lazy. She had a lot of emphasis on small, basic, daily repetitive exercises so you built your and your horse’s foundation correctly. If you were not effective, it affected your horse. If you were mentally checked out, that affected your horse too.

By the time I got to her, she was established enough not to have any beginners or lesson horses, because she knew she did not have the patience for that. She knew she had the skill set to produce other trainers and professional riders (and had, already, by that time, some of whom were more famous or successful business-wise than her, making more money, bigger training operation), so perhaps that was already self-selecting towards riders of a certain mentality and ability.

She trained younger kids, with their own horse, just starting out jumping to older, life-long amateurs/weekend warriors/re-riders, as well as juniors and WS and would-be-pros; exercises were tailored to their ability, but with the same core philosophy to be able to ride every stride on your horse, to understand balance, to be effective in the saddle. The ones that left were usually the ones who got offended at being told they needed a more educated leg (or they cried a bit, got over it, and got back to learning).

She did not yell epithets or threats or shame you. Rides ended on a good note – like, I can’t think of one where it didn’t, even with mistakes during the session or course at a show (I can think of plenty where it did, at previous barns). Frustration melted away when trainer could break it down to small enough building blocks that made sense, and when I could feel where I was in the tack and what the horse’s feet and entire body was doing and how to ask to get the results I wanted. And her goal was that you could ride WITHOUT her around, you could warm up your own horse, you were not trainer dependent, you eventually told her what you’re doing wrong (and right) and how to fix it – or you just did it. If you got to GP ability, she would send you to another trainer who specialized in jumpers.

…but still, I think some found her too harsh or tactless or not fun enough. Or the program was too intense when they just wanted to jump around 3’-3’6, without working quite so hard on themselves or knowing how to train a horse, and had the funds to buy a suitable/made horse for that purpose and keep it in training to maintain his ability.

[Another-Bay]

@dani0303

I had a “tough” trainer as a junior. She demanded perfection in every aspect.

Sure, I learned to ride damn well. The downside is along with it came an eating disorder and severe self confidence issues. Ten plus years of being told I’m too fat and not good enough carries severe consequences well into adulthood.

I am sorry you had to suffer with that. I hope you were able to find resources to help you.

[Impractical_Horsewoman]

I’m an untalented adult rider and I completely shut down when instructors scream at me. As a child, I think it’s why I never pursued competitive physical activity (something which I really regret). I’ve always hated the “unthinking obedience to the coach” model and “if you don’t tolerate quasi-abusive behavior, you’re not tough enough and don’t deserve it” mentality.

In my eyes, the only time it’s justified to personally attack a student is if they’re endangering themselves or the horse or they are truly being a brat (i.e., deliberately ignoring instruction, whining about not being able to jump a bigger fence if it’s inappropriate for themselves or their horse, or being insulting to the instructor).

Criticism is different and I don’t know anyone, even the most mentally fragile rider (i.e. me) who doesn’t thrive on constant feedback from an instructor. But the hissy-fit throwing coach is rarely giving productive criticism. In fact, usually the screamers are the ones who won’t try to find a way to rephrase what they are saying if the student doesn’t understand.

The most ideal instructor I ever saw was Robert Dover, when he was giving his filmed masterclasses to some young dressage students this year on a livestream. He was absolutely rigorous and was always giving them feedback. He was honest about what they needed to do better at the end of the ride. He never blamed the horses. But he didn’t take it personally if a student didn’t understand or couldn’t execute his directives right away. He tried to turn it into a positive learning opportunity. He was hilarious without being cruel!

I know that funny insults and thumbtacks on saddles are humorous and meme-able. Hell, I’ve shared a bunch on social media. Maybe that was necessary when training people in the 19th century to not die in the cavalry. It’s still probably necessary if a student wants to be an Olympian, event beyond Preliminary level, or win Big Eq finals. But I’m not gunning to join the military, I have no Olympic aspirations, I have no desire to jump particularly high, and I’m middle-aged. I’m just looking to learn something with my horse and become a slightly better rider with every ride.

[dani0303]

@APirateLooksAtForty

It is damn near impossible for one single trainer to be responsible for a person’s eating disorder. Where were your parents, friends, school counselors? And why did you stay with the trainer? NOT victim blaming, but I think that eating disorders (and I am well versed in the subject) can rarely be attributed to one single factor and are extremely multi faceted.

Of course it goes deeper than that (there was also sexual assault involved) but I worshiped trainer like a demi-god. She was the only circuit trainer within an hour of where we lived and in my 14 year old mind if I didn’t ride with her I wouldn’t get to show. My parents were present and involved but I pretty successfully hid stuff from them due to their naivety. The bulemia came to a head when I passed out off the side of my horse during a lesson. My parents got me treatment for the eating disrder but didn’t know about the trauma from the sexual assault until many years later. I’m not the only girl in the barn that went through all of this either.

TL;DR- I was a shitshow until college and it mostly stemmed from my barn life.

[Lord_Helpus]

I rode with Victor Hugo Vidal and George Morris in the '60’s. They were still in their 20’s and just starting out as trainers (I was 12). I was in awe of both of them and scared to death of both of them. But, for the first time, I doubled down, listened without talking, and never complained or said, “no”. And I learned a ton. I was by far a better rider than I had been/would have been with a “nice” coach.

I have stories that I cannot tell because I do not want to make this into a post about ‘abuse’. Back then, it was not abuse; it was working hard, not making any excuses and trying 110% of the time to do better than I had the time before.

I worshiped them back then, and still remember those days fondly. While sexual abuse is never OK, the days of drill sergeants has gone. People would complain if a trainer brought down the fear of God on them.

Personally, I think those people are wusses. If that kind of a trainer is not helping the student, then find another trainer who is more to their liking. But don’t tell people about abuse, even while staying with that trainer.

[Silk]

I started riding in the 70’s. My trainer was a GHM student and was friends with a (then) Rhode Island trainer known for his “toughness”. She was tough…harsh…direct and very demanding. Nothing was touchy-feely and yes, she could make me cry. However, I liked it. I was a serious rider and this was what I knew. It made me a very responsible horse person, as she was just as tough on us off the horse as on it. I learned to groom, braid, clip and to always put my horse first. I aslo knew that when I got a complement, it was well deserved. I stopped riding whhen I went off to college and grad school. I returned after a 15 yr hiatus and frankly, was a bit disappointed when I came back to riding because I felt everything had been watered down a bit in terms of expectations. However, I was also seeing this in the classroom as well, so it is more a sign of society’s expectations, or rather lack of. I think there is a difference between those who want to be very competitive and those who are taking a lesson once a week for fun or for social reasons.

[HipNo34]

I have to go back and read this whole thing carefully because this is a topic I think about often. What’s tough? What’s abusive? Where’s the line? Some kinds were good for me. Other kinds demolished me. And when I read the stories of people who were truly and absolutely abused, I feel kind of ashamed. My worst experiences were summer camp in comparison.

I can’t even begin to articulate those without writing a trainer-by-trainer long-form piece (below may be long form but it’s still the abridged version). As a junior, through the 80s and early 90s, I rode with probably a half dozen or so trainers and experienced somewhat of a spectrum. There weren’t a lot of options in my part of the world, especially if you couldn’t afford to commute an hour-plus, so I bounced around a lot.

For the TLDL-types, suffice it to say, I usually joke that precious few of my former trainers would fly with today’s parents. For many reasons.

Some “tough” was better than others. There was a demanding trainer from whom I got a real education, coming a from a more feral lesson barn environment. She insisted on discipline but she wasn’t a yeller or screamer. She also opened up opportunities. Including giving me a working student gig, finding me a free lease (super fancy but a runaway) and setting me up with a second trainer (hunters and eq weren’t her thing). He, however, was verbally abusive. Trainer 1’s “tough” I progressed under; Trainer 2’s “tough” was, at best, emotionally distracting. At worst, it left me unable to function.

The thing is, I was always a good student (at least at the barn). I was never one of those kids who goofed off or was hard to focus in a lesson. So as I write this, I think I can trace a lot of problems back to this particular situation at the age of 12 or 13 – including the super fancy runaway that I became scared sh*tless off. It got to the point where I was going home and crying every night. My mother’s assessment – only having had brief encounters with Trainer 2 – was that I didn’t “want it enough.” I wound up quitting for a month before going back to my old, feral lesson barn for a while.

Another kind of tough was a trainer I clinic-ed with a handful of times, years later. Tremendously charming yet I was still intimidated by him (one of those velvet glove sorts, I suppose; you just knew “no” wasn’t an option). I pushed past my comfort zone without even realizing it. It was exhilarating. At that time, I was frozen by confidence issues following a couple of bad crashes and my regular trainer and I were more or less going in circles.

Then there was a trainer, just passing through, whom I got to work with briefly. Kind. Patient. Took an entirely different approach to long-running problems. Felt like a miracle worker. I wondered if my whole life as rider would be different if I had had a trainer like that earlier on.

I ended up with a lovely OTTB that I probably wasted over the last few years of my Gulliver’s Travels of a junior career. So I always, always wonder, with a high degree of guilt, how much of my failures were a result of me being “weak”. And how much were a perfect storm of everything, including sucking-black-hole-of-dysfunction barn drama that ruined the last program I was in. Maybe I would’ve been able to forge through if I just “wanted it enough.”

[Edre]

I had a very stern trainer for about 12 weeks in my mid teens. I was already riding with one at the barn, but wanted to do more lessons a week and she couldn’t fit me into her schedule, so I picked up a ride with another instructor. I will clarify: she was not cruel nor was she abusive. She was firm, insistent, stern, strident, and loud.

As a teen, it was a very poor match. I was eager to learn and tried hard, but the reason I could always buckle down and try as hard as I did was that I had faith in my (first) instructor that she wouldn’t ask me to do things she didn’t feel I couldn’t do, so even if I didn’t trust myself, I could trust her. I lacked that security with Stern Trainer and often felt that her approach pushed me faster than I was really prepared to go and put me in situations that hindsight indicates I would have been capable of doing but in that moment and the headspace I was in as a 13/14 year old, made me feel like I was overfaced and was a total confidence killer.

I ended up dropping lessons with her and waiting until my original instructor had another opening. I’ve ridden with Original Instructor for… close to 16? years now? and I’ve actually ended up in a situation where I’ve lessoned with Stern Instructor in the years since. As an adult I like her much better. I am more secure, more confident in my abilities, and can communicate my needs/uncertainties more clearly. I wouldn’t hesitate to lesson with her these days.

What it came down to in my situation is just a complete scramble of personalities. I was a very, very shy, reserved, insecure kid. I wasn’t the most naturally talented rider but I tried very hard and had significant success as a result of it. It made it appealing for other instructors to see that success & push me to do more, which I was completely capable of doing but mentally/emotionally wasn’t certain of it. Original instructor got me to the point where I could do all the same things other instructors wanted me to do, but it often involved some back roads and being patient with me and helping me build my confidence. To this day, I still thrive under instruction like that - people who can sit down and explain theory to me before or during what they’re asking me to do, who can break down live-time what they’re seeing/what I’m doing (and who allow for my insight - “I feel like I lost my outside hand and as a result the hind end fell out” etc.)

[Blugal]

@dani0303

I had a “tough” trainer as a junior. She demanded perfection in every aspect.

Sure, I learned to ride damn well. The downside is along with it came an eating disorder and severe self confidence issues. Ten plus years of being told I’m too fat and not good enough carries severe consequences well into adulthood.

Same here. My coach had a personality disorder and the adults who should have looked out for me while I was a teen instead idolized her. The relationship only got more involved and toxic even into my adulthood. I have PTSD and am still dealing with the aftermath three years after cutting all ties, even though I appear to be a tough successful adult on the outside.

[AAHunterGal]

It’s strange to me how we seem as horsemen and women to condone behavior from an instructor of riding that wouldn’t be condoned in a classroom setting. Child psychology and teaching science/research has shown that confrontational and intimidating instruction is not what yields the best results. Even when folks turn out to be good riders, doesn’t anyone stop to wonder if they could have been even BETTER if the training was done in an empathetic way? Without any yelling or tears or shaming?

There is a difference between being “pushed” and being overfaced. What if, for example, we trained young or new riders as we would a young horse? With patience and letting the student dictate the pace of what and how things are learned? Would we point a young horse at a jump we knew they might or might not be ready for and just have them do it repeatedly until they figured it out?

[Jarrn]

I have never minded strict teachers, but yelling (unless safety is an issue) was never okay. I was a super sensitive child (and even am as an adult, lets be honest) and getting yelled at would reduce me to tears. I grew up constantly being put down or criticized by my family, so that kind of teaching did not work at all. Even now, as an adult, if someone I look up to or respect (aka not a rando in a parking lot) comes across as critical or “mad” at me, I get ridiculously upset.

Fortunately, I did end up finding a trainer who made riding fun and was more of a “friend” but was also strict if I wasn’t trying my best. My first horse was a rank SOB (who I ended up having for 12 years and turned into the best horse I’ve ever owned), but getting bucked off never discouraged me because of the way my trainer shrugged it off. If she had berated me for not getting his head up, or not having a strong enough leg, or whatever, I’m 100% certain I would have quit riding altogether. I was just too sensitive as a kid shrugs

[Jarrn]

Posting again to say that I did a brief stint as an assistant instructor for a fancy barn I was working at at the time. I made sure that the (young) kids I was teaching had fun, first and foremost. Would they have learned as fast if I were strict and yelling at them? Maybe. Would they have enjoyed riding? Probably not. I saw much more improvement when I praised the small successes (they were beginners, so when their leg stopped flopping around for a few strides? Praise that shit lol. If they finally managed to sit on their pockets in a sitting trot? Air high five!). I think there are some personalities that do fine with an instructor who demands perfection, but far more do better with an empathetic instructor who can make riding fun and who praise the small successes.

[DarkenStormy]

I grew up riding in the 70’s and 80’s and there was no political correctness and no " everyone gets a trophy" mentality. My trainers were young but they were good. They may have been a little harsh in their manner but they were tough and they trained us well. They wanted to make sure we could ride anything that came our way and that we were safe on any horse and knew what we were doing. They truly cared for our well being - we spent time outside of riding together - we were like a family - but when we were on a horse we were all business. That’s not to say we didn’t have fun on our horses - we would go trail riding and stuff.

It was tough then but I can sit any horse and I am a more confident person because of them.

[GoodTimes]

IMO tough is not synonymous with screaming, bullying, shaming, etc. Tough means praising hard work, tough means pushing boundaries, tough means being a stickler for proper equitation and horsemanship.

My first trainer was tough and I am thankful for that every day. She didn’t praise the little things, but she got excited when we accomplished something difficult, as a kid that’s what I worked for. She pushed the boundaries, but not without giving us the tools and building blocks first. Because of her I don’t need handholding. As a working adult ammy I can successfully show at A shows without a coach, and I haven’t bought a horse older than 4 since I was 16.

As a side note I’ve noticed over the years that most of my coaches (I’ve moved back and forth across the country a few times) are tough but polite and diplomatic with me and I think that’s because I listen well. I follow instructions well. I get frustrated riding with people who “listen” to instructions ie a new course, or circle at this end and transition at B, etc and then trot off and do it all wrong. It’s like talking to a wall. I’d be an awful coach because I’d be screaming at those people. If you’re someone that consistently makes mistakes like that then sit back and figure out why. If you’re always mixing up lefts and rights then do some exercises to get better at it, don’t just keep turning whichever way you feel like.

[NancyM]

Yes. I’ve ridden with a number of coaches over 5 decades, some were considered to be “tough”. At the time, it may not have been entirely pleasant. But yes, I feel that it was effective, in the long run. What I can’t stand is the current coaching theory of, “YEEEEESSSSS, GOOOOOOOD, and do it again”. The ego stroking of a “coach” building up their client’s opinion of themselves and their riding, when, in fact, nothing changes, nothing improves, and nobody learns anything.

I was “set up” once, by my current coach at the time, to be “taken down a notch” by a visiting clinician, when I was 12. The goal was to make me cry and shake my confidence. My parents heard about it at the time, and clued me in later. It was unsuccessful in the crying department at the time, but it gave me something to think about. It took me a long time to forgive the clinician in question, but I did eventually. And have taken more clinics from her over the decades since then. She is kinder now in her old age LOL! My father never did forgive the coach who did the setting up, he thought it was all pretty despicable. And uncalled for. I was a kid who rode at home, shipped in for lessons weekly, and they wanted me to be more dependant, less self sufficient, because that makes a good “client”. It didn’t work. But it probably toughened me up a bit.