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

[Another-Bay]

There does seem to be a theme of people who recognize there is a difference between singularly positive trainers (not always helpful or safe) and those who can strike a middle ground between recognizing progress and pointing out faults.

It’s the one-note trainers I think that are the most frustrating, either because they are too positive (thus not challenging the rider nor encouraging improvement) or too negative (where the rider feels discouraged and hyper-criticized).

Horseback riding seems to bucketed into that “elite” sport category. I had good friends that were highly competitive ballet dancers and I noticed a similar pursuit of perfection. Their horror stories mirrored my own in many ways.

If anything, we might have more to manage in our implementation of criticism because we must factor our horses willingness and fitness into the equation!

[Scribbler]

I also think it’s worth keeping in mind that by and large, someone that makes it through to being a good coach or trainer is going to inevitably be someone that was always a good rider compared to their peers, and that has natural athletic ability. Especially for trainers that jump, it’s not uncommon for them to also love other high speed, high skill, high risk sports (like downhill skiing or kayaking).

A certain percentage of young riders are going to be in that category, natural athletes with balance and a taste for risk. But especially in their early teens, girls can have all sorts of fears and anxieties that might make them less able to fully exploit their natural athleticism. Girls even today get so many warnings against risk taking in every other aspect of their lives, that it is not perhaps surprising that by 13 they may start to pull back a bit.

However, it’s also true that many of us come to riding horses as the only high risk, high speed, high skills, sport we have ever done or ever will do, or want to do. Many people ride because they love horses, and have to develop the skills and the taste for calculated risk over time. Many, maybe most, adult re-riders or beginners would never dream of taking up downhill skiing at the age of 45, but they have a great drive to learn to ride.

I think it is hard for coaches who are natural athletes to always know what to do with the riders who are not. Simple things like proprioception: does the rider actually know where here hands and feet are in space? Or natural balance. Or fitness and stamina. Or problems with body alignment that make it really hard to get a correct seat or leg.

For me, the comparison is teaching college writing. I have to step down and really think about how to communicate basic skills to people who are not “natural writers” but can become quite competent with some focused instruction.

Anyhow, I’ve been in salsa fit classes where the instructor tells the class to hold the one pound weights out ahead at shoulder height, and seen arms go flying off in every direction, up down and sideways. That tells me that a large part of the population probably has given no thought at all to where their body is, and if you had someone like that in a riding lesson, they might well mix up right and left, inside and outside, up and down.

If it’s an adult doing it, people tend to say well, she’s just a klutz, let’s go slower. But if it’s a kid doing it, people tend to say, she’s not listening or she’s not trying. Or she’s doing it on purpose because she doesn’t want it enough. Or whatever.

In general, I think kids need to be treated with more respect. But that doesn’t mean cooing “good job” over every little try. As a kid I was ahead of the curve on art (which I did not pursue to adult professional standards) and writing/ reading (which I did pursue to adult professional standards). I often thought adults were extremely stupid because they would praise efforts that I knew were mediocre, and had absolutely no suggestions for how to improve. I wanted my art to be super realistic, and everyone cooed over it when I knew it wasn’t up to my own standards

I did not feel the adults were treating me with respect, because they were not able to distinguish between my best efforts and my mediocre ones, and they did not acknowledge my own desires to improve.

On the other hand, phys ed class was a hell hole.

The end result was that I became very self-directed on the things that mattered to me (writing and riding).

Interestingly, I did not consider riding a “sport” as a kid, and neither did the grownups around me. It was a hobby or an activity, and I came to think of it as an art. I was well into my 40s, listening to some radio program in the car that extolled the value of sports for teen girls and scoffing silently: well, I got all that (discipline, fitness, focus, responsilbity, an interest outside myself) from riding. I certainly would never have got that from a sport. That was when I finally went: oh, right. Riding is a sport.

Nowadays you can get credit for gym class in some school districts if you take riding lessons.

[Salty]

Scribbler, that is so true! I had a teacher who would give me an A+, with the comment, “How you can write!” when all I wanted was honest criticism that would help me improve.

I’ve had a complete range of riding instructors & those who have helped me the most have been those who respected me enough to push me, but did not use personal insults to do so.

[retiredhorse]

My PE teacher did not think riding was a sport, even though you could get credit for it. Used to dock my marks when I missed class for horse shows (“lack of participation”, which, yeah, I was not there), despite having approval from my parents and the principal. I was a straight-A student…and c- in gym, lol. Dropped that class as soon as I could. To be fair to her, I also did not try super hard in PE, because there was nothing about running or sports or teams that I liked.

Riding is the only thing I’ve been remotely athletically skilled at. I do not love the thrill of the jumpers, even when I could go around a big course…with time faults :D. Have no sense of rhythm, except on a horse either (my dancing sucks, but that might be some self-image issues also). Hate heights, except when sitting on a horse. Can barely ride a bike.

@scribbler: I think it is hard for coaches who are natural athletes to always know what to do with the riders who are not. Simple things like proprioception: does the rider actually know where here hands and feet are in space? Or natural balance. Or fitness and stamina. Or problems with body alignment that make it really hard to get a correct seat or leg

Totally agree! I think if they have never had to work through riding issues, when it comes so naturally to them, they don’t even think how something could be an issue to someone else. Or how to break it down for someone else to get (it’s almost baffling to them that some people don’t just get it or feel it). Or their real passion is riding, the teaching is just what pays the bills.

Best trainer I had did not ride and was never known for her riding skills in her youth. Said when she got a student that naturally gifted, her main job was NOT to interfere with their ability/feel, just give them some guidance and structure in developing their skills and horsemanship. The ones that went on to be trainers, I’m not sure she taught them how to teach other people either, which is a separate skill from riding.

[blumchen]

This is a great post and something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately as I have gotten back into riding as an adult.

I started off riding at the age of eight and had a very harsh trainer. Sometimes I think my memory is fooling me, but fortunately my parents are around to say, “No, she really was that harsh.” Screaming wasn’t out of the question, and sometimes she handled the horses in a way that I considered (and still do to this day) way too harsh and possibly abusive. And she handled them that way while I was riding them, which put me at risk of getting thrown off.

The cons? Well, I was a very sensitive eight year old and didn’t take the harshness very well. I cried before my lessons and absolutely hated going. I was pushed way beyond my comfort zone and fell off constantly. I was absolutely terrified of riding. I recently went to visit that first farm where I rode just to say hello to some old friends, and I suddenly felt extremely nervous just as I drove up the driveway, remembering how nervous I used to be as I went to my lessons.

I still really struggle with confidence and nervousness in my riding. Part of that is probably just my personality but there’s definitely part of me that wishes my “upbringing” around horses had been a little more gentle and positive. Sometimes I wonder if I’d be a more confident rider today.

But there have been some pros as well. I’ve always tended to work in industries that are very female-dominated and I’ve had some intense bosses that could be harsh at times. I think my first trainer’s treatment helped me take their criticism in a much better way. I can stay calm and cool while they’re ripping me to shreds and don’t let my emotions come out until I’m alone. (Fortunately, I’ve moved on to a much better, more professional situation with awesome female supervisors in my new job.) If they’re overreacting a bit, I’m better at letting it roll off my shoulders than I think I would be if I hadn’t been exposed to such an intense personality at a young age.

After that, I moved on to trainers that were much more supportive and willing to let me progress at my own pace. Recently, I took a lesson with a trainer who was a bit more intense and critical. I was nervous going into it, knowing she might remind me of my first trainer. And while I definitely was yelled at a bit, I noticed that I wasn’t shaken by it. In fact, I was so frustrated with myself that I didn’t blame her for getting frustrated with me! My body just wasn’t doing what she or I wanted it to. So while sometimes I wish that I hadn’t had such “bad” experiences as a child, I also wonder what I’d be like today if I hadn’t had them.

[amb]

I would have said my trainer as a teenager was tough until I started reading this thread, but now I don’t know what “tough” is.

He and his assistants pushed me incredibly hard at times, way waaaay out of my comfort zone, but he was also quiet and kind and incredibly motivating. Sometimes sarcastic, but never mocking. They got people and horses to the very top of the hunter game without yelling at or tearing down students. I learned a lot about both horses and life there.

[HipNo34]

@blümchen

…
I think my first trainer’s treatment helped me take their criticism in a much better way. I can stay calm and cool while they’re ripping me to shreds and don’t let my emotions come out until I’m alone. (Fortunately, I’ve moved on to a much better, more professional situation with awesome female supervisors in my new job.) If they’re overreacting a bit, I’m better at letting it roll off my shoulders than I think I would be if I hadn’t been exposed to such an intense personality at a young age.

… So while sometimes I wish that I hadn’t had such “bad” experiences as a child, I also wonder what I’d be like today if I hadn’t had them.

Me too! And, me too.

I also realized I never answered that part of the question. Yes, hands down, I think I handle criticism better. And have a better sense of scale and perspective regarding it.

[Willesdon]

In my experience, the best horsemen and the best teachers have been remarkably quiet people who have an intense ability to listen and observe and to problem solve through analysis. The ones who shout, bully, use sarcasm and have massive egos are also the ones who generally know the least. So my learning has been that respect is earned by skill and knowledge, that kindness is infinitely more effective than unkindness and that a great teacher will make even the worst student feel good about themselves. I try to take those ideas into my working life.

[Scribbler]

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@Willesdon

In my experience, the best horsemen and the best teachers have been remarkably quiet people who have an intense ability to listen and observe and to problem solve through analysis. The ones who shout, bully, use sarcasm and have massive egos are also the ones who generally know the least. So my learning has been that respect is earned by skill and knowledge, that kindness is infinitely more effective than unkindness and that a great teacher will make even the worst student feel good about themselves. I try to take those ideas into my working life.

Very good points.

Perhaps however the very best horsemen don’t end up teaching group lessons of tweens, and that gets relegated to the shouters.

As far as going through a period of abusive or near abusive input from a person in authority making you better able to handle criticism as an adult, I don’t really buy it. Learned helplessness is a thing with young women as well as horses.

If you were able to identify the behavior as wrong and leave or change the situation that might be useful. But if you had to submit to it while everyone said it was normal then you could just as easily end up rather cowering or traumatized.

There’s a reason schools have moved away from instilling terror and punishment. It didn’t work.

Anyhow handling criticism as an adult doesn’t mean cowering while some psychopath vents at you. It means actively seeking out trusted mentors and peers that will give you feedback on specific tasks or skills that you can work to implement. It also means recognizing that a general air of disapproval from someone is a bad sign, and don’t engage.

As far as wondering if you didn’t want something badly enough as a child or teen, I think that’s a profitless rabbit hole to go down. Kids are at the mercy of the adults in their lives and those adults have complex and often hidden agendas.

They do not necessarily have your success or your true best interests at heart, not even your parents. I see so many parents now who subtly undermine their kids. And I can see in retrospect that happening when I was a kid.

It is not until you are a young adult and self supporting that the question of what you want to do most is in any way a test of character, resolve, desire, determination. And even then you need to over come obstacles of resources, geography, time, ability.

The catch is that the foundation of success in athletics is set in the teen years, and in the case of gymnastics, is over by age 18 or whenever you grow adult proportions. But also no teen achieves notable athletic success without a team of adults fully engaged including parents and coach and a competitive system set up to reward them.

This isn’t the case in the arts and other skills and professions. It’s true a future painter or author or physcist or etc will show ability ahead of the curve as a teen. But their real training starts in college and their ability will increase through their adult years. And while they need training and mentors they find these on their own, pick and choose, and discover their own original direction.

Anyhow I would not waste emotional energy saying what-if about teen experiences. If you chose to drop an activity, that means you didn’t want to continue at least in the form it was offered. Indeed, for teens quitting can sometimes be the only active choice they can make because they can’t change parents, coaches, or the expectations of that slice of the sport that they are embedded in.

If you withdrew from a borderline abusive trainer you might have made the best choice for your ongoing emotional development, just like when you finally decided to put distance between yourself and a catty frenemy or a sulky boyfriend.

[Jarpur]

As a youth, my trainer was tough but fair. She didn’t yell, as she didn’t need to do so. If our legs were wobbly, then we rode without stirrups; if we were handsy, we had to tie up our reins and ride without (and if both, one got to ride sans both stirrups and reins) – and we rarely rode in an arena, either, so we’d be out there on the field learning that we could do it.

I never saw a fellow student abuse a horse in any way, while riding with her, but I can imagine that would have resulted in immediate dismissal. Her tutelage has served me very well in a lifetime of riding and bringing along horses, and I still appreciate the excellent foundation I received.

When our barn attended shows, I would be horrified to hear and see how other young riders were yelled at, destructively criticized, and belittled by their trainers. The warm-up arena was an eye-opener! I would not have responded well to such treatment, and I was mystified that parents were paying for children to be subjected to such behavior.

[PonyPenny]

Trainers that yell, belittle and make condescending remarks are not tough trainers. These are people that have pathetic lives and are living vicariously through their clients. As a parent, I would never of put up with that. Tough trainers push you past your comfort zone to get results. I actually call these trainers effective trainers.

[oppsfelldown]

I had a couple of very tough trainers for my JR years and I absolutely swear that they made me a good rider. We’d get yelled at, at times if we did not listen or were mean (kicking/jerking) then you’d get yanked off the horse and have a strip torn off you (verbally) and then scrubbed buckets until your mom came to pick you up and usually got in additional trouble.

BUT those trainers also reinforced the good - you lived for them to say “nice line” or “that was great”. they also took the time to explain the why and how to do something, this is why you use your leg like this, this is why you lift your inside rein 1/4", this is why you ride this track to the jump.

As I have gotten older and broken then I do appreciate a softer trainer but I will always need that one that says Knock it Off and Get on the Horse!!! along with the occasional “your kidding -right”

edited to add:

there is a real difference between a tough trainer and a mean trainer. A tough trainer will not scream/belittle/ridicule a rider, but they will stop you and make you do something again until it is correct. Sometimes they are loud but never hurtful.

[foursocks]

As many have noted, there are big differences between trainers who are cruel and abusive, or who overface their students, and ones who are tough. I rode with a husband and wife team as a junior- I’d started with the man, who was loud, strict, and really pushed me. When he married the other trainer, I gained another very tough trainer who could also be mean- not horribly so, but she could be nasty if one was not riding well.

I didn’t like that so much, but she was (and still is, I see her name all over the place), incredibly talented and really helped me improve as a rider, especially of green horses, so I coped. Her attention to detail fit with how I process things, and while I preferred lessoning with the other trainer, I always knew that I would get a bit more out of riding with her.

My current trainer is one who people either love or hate. He can yell, and he has a biting wit. Those of us who love him are a bit tougher as riders, I think- he is somewhat old school, although his training methods are a great blend of older and newer approaches- and we understand that his priority, always, is that we train our horses well and correctly. His focus is always on how we can be better riders for our horses, be advocates for them, and when you don’t do this is when he might yell.

Some simply cannot learn and ride well with a big, loud man pushing them to be better, but I’ve never left a lesson without feeling good about what I learned or worked on or whatever. If he praises you, you know you really earned it. Plus, the horses adore him, which says a lot to me. He also knows me really well, and he is really good at pushing the right buttons so I get mad at myself for screwing up and then go fix it- this is how I ride better. Not by someone screaming abuse at me, but by someone pushing me to be better because he knows I can do it.

I rode for a few years with a trainer who was always positive, always wanted to end things “on a good note,” and always gave praise. None of that is bad, per se, but after a certain point he didn’t push me, and so I ended up feeling stuck. I couldn’t progress in my riding and my horse’s training had stalled out. When someone says “Good job!” and I actually KNOW I screwed up, or didn’t do whatever it was I was supposed to be doing properly, that isn’t helpful. The first time I rode with my current trainer it was such a relief- AH!! Here is someone who will help me get where I want to be! I trust him with myself and my horses, and that makes all the difference.

[PNWjumper]

I rode with a tough trainer when I was a kid. But there’s a huge difference in my mind between “tough” and “personal.” My trainer was very military-esque. He would SCREAM at you if you screwed up something you shouldn’t have (I have memories of being berated at age 11 for bringing a horse into a lesson who had shavings in his tail - he screamed until I started crying…but I never did it again!). But he never, ever got personal. He never called me stupid or directed his anger or disappointment at me as a human. He would berate my decisions (when they were wrong) and push me in the correct direction clearly and consistently. And what he did do, was convince me that I was king (er…queen?) of the world and like I could accomplish anything. Because when he praised you (and it was SO SO rare), you knew it was so solidly deserved. I lived for his approval, and I worshipped him as a horseman until the day he died.

So yes, my tough trainer made me a better horseman, a better rider, and a better human.

But a lot of what I see when I look around at shows, especially by the “screamers,” are trainers who get weirdly personal and scream things like, “are you stupid!!!” and I don’t think there’s any place or reason for that. As in training horses, “tough” is not a bad thing if paired with qualities like “fair,” “consistent,” “knowledgable,” and “predictable.” Without those qualifiers there’s not a great excuse or need for it.

[hillary_again]

I learned to ride in the late 60’s. The trainer ran a very, very successful lesson program and had her own operation (owned her own barn). I don’t think tough was really part of the program: but all of us wanted to please her (and probably BE her when we grew up - yes, channel your horse-crazy 10 year old selves). Following direction, not complaining: that was taken for granted. We wanted to get into the lessons and be the best rider that hour. We were thrilled to take on whatever challenge there was: riding without stirrups, jumping and getting that turn, riding the difficult horse.
I think I have had more trainers, as an adult, that WERE NOT TOUGH ENOUGH. I have had to tell them that I did not want a lesson that made me feel confirmed as a rider: I’m taking the lesson to become a better rider. That is however way different than putting up with insults or sarcasm: have no idea why anyone would ever tolerate that for themselves or their kid.
I also observed one of my trainers who never taught his client to ride. Seriously. She got the horse in the mouth on every jump. I had to assume he did not care enough to help her improve. I think he was making some $ buying her a new horse every year or so.

[Jumping31]

My last trainer was very emotionally abusive to our show team.
When someone new came the first thing she would do is say look at everyone and rank them by worst to best in front of them. It’d move on to yelling and very degrading comments if any of us so much as made a bad turn. Every lesson would end up with someone crying (and these were tough girls), physically hurt because she had pushed them too far, and the trainer red-faced from screaming at us obscenities rather than constructive advice. At one particular show, certain circumstances came up in which resulted in me having a panic attack to which she told me “buck up and do your part for the team” which is honestly one of the worst things you can say to those with anxiety or having a panic attack. On one particularly bad ride, I ended up getting thrown 5 times into the arena fence while cantering stirrupless on a very green mare far too advanced for my level. Rather than offering tips to overcome my mistakes she ridiculed me and would scream at me for not being in order. I ended up bruising tailbone and to this day am paranoid of cantering stirrupless. I left the barn before the season ended and by the end of the season, all of the other girls had left as well. I didn’t start up riding again for a year and I know a handful of the others have quit permanently.
I was the kind of person who would take harsh criticism and screaming personally and would internalize it. It took a good couple years for me to learn to enjoy riding for what it is (I don’t intend to show as a priority) and find a trainer that works best for me. My current trainer has given me so many opportunities and taught me so much in a few short months. So yes, my last trainer was tough to say the least but she broke my passion for riding. No trainer should break that.

[BHTC]

I had a few., well… critical… coaches. As a kid, in made me want to do better and better-- and I did. As an adult, I suffered severe anorexia (riding was only part of the problem) (which btw is a solution to the problem). It hurt me more to see my friends and riding buddies yelled at and screamed at than her directing anything at me, possibly because I was used to it from home.

I don’t know. I grew into a solid, well rounded horsewoman-- but it was not without trainer “difficulties” to get there.

[poltroon]

High standards are good. Abuse is not.

Here and there, I had exposure to what I’ll describe as the military style of instruction - do this or else. No question I learned to shut up and never show fear. I remember being terrified of a wall and confessing that, and then I had to jump the wall again and again and again. I jump walls now without any particular concern, it’s true. And I learned never ever to confess my fear or let it show, a skill that served me well navigating the world as a young blond woman engineer. I can train with people like this, and I can learn with them, if they are not abusive or personal.

I have also experienced lessons with “tough” trainers that were abusive, and by abusive I don’t just mean that their words were mean, but that they were completely unfair. As in, I had every reason to believe I was following the instructions given, and well, and then I got belittled and verbally torn apart - I’ll note also to the horror and surprise of other people in that lesson. This was a clinic and I feel fortunate that I was not in a situation where I had any need to ride with that person ever again. But even if I had made the mistake claimed, that abuse was not in any way valuable or educational.

Note that this style is the style of trainers like Jimmy Williams. I don’t think this is a coincidence.

I learned to shut up and ride, and make myself an extension of the trainer. This can be a good thing, with the right trainer. It can also be bad, in that I know on occasion I have ridden abusively because of it, the yank and spank. Fortunately for me, horses are forgiving. And I’ve found a better balance in my shut-up-and-ride mode.

I have also had exposure to much more thoughtful trainers, who were exacting and knowledgable and able and who I have never seen tear down a student publicly. Trainers with the skill to see a mistake even before it is a mistake and correct it, who give confidence to the student in every exercise. Trainers who will stop you, kindly and helpfully, before the accident happens. Trainers whose disappointment, when appropriate, is quiet and direct but not angry or mean. Trainers who know I always want to do better and know that yelling at me does not create that thirst for excellence. I have learned so much more from this style of teacher it does not even compare.

[Jarpur]

@poltroon

High standards are good. Abuse is not.

. . .
I have also had exposure to much more thoughtful trainers, who were exacting and knowledgable and able and who I have never seen tear down a student publicly. Trainers with the skill to see a mistake even before it is a mistake and correct it, who give confidence to the student in every exercise. Trainers who will stop you, kindly and helpfully, before the accident happens. Trainers whose disappointment, when appropriate, is quiet and direct but not angry or mean. Trainers who know I always want to do better and know that yelling at me does not create that thirst for excellence. I have learned so much more from this style of teacher it does not even compare.

The above describes my childhood trainer, with whom I rode for years (the one I referenced in my earlier post on this thread), and me [my relationship with her as one of her students]!

[Ladylexie]

I could not have handled being yelled at. I always have taken my riding seriously and still do. I would have been devastated.