Seen And Not Heard!?!

When You Let Them Speak, Children Can Say the Darndest Things.

As I stood at a critical junction, I could feel a shift—a subtle, unfamiliar tension looming just beyond the surface. We had just come off one of the most successful cross-country seasons in program history, with both the men’s and women’s teams qualifying for nationals. There was excitement, momentum, and a palpable buzz around the team. But I knew that the transition into indoor track wasn’t going to be as seamless as it seemed. What lay ahead was the real challenge: maintaining unity and focus as we stepped into uncharted territory.

This time, it wasn’t just about transitioning from one sport to another. A specific challenge stood at the crossroads: the difficult decision of who would make the travel squad. At a school like ours, where funding is always tight, deciding which athletes would travel to the prestigious indoor events was going to be more complicated than ever. In previous years, I had seen how deeply personal these decisions could become, even when the criteria were clear. We stood at a point where a single wrong step could shake the foundation we’d worked so hard to build.

I remember standing at the threshold of my office, looking ahead like someone about to cross into uncertain terrain. My plan was to meet weekly with the team leaders to discuss the selection process. It was a commitment that would eat into hours I didn’t have, hours that could have gone toward the 70+ athletes or the unending logistics. I knew I had to communicate clearly, but what if it backfired? What if these meetings stirred up more frustration? What if the unity we’d worked so hard to create unraveled in the face of tough decisions?

I felt the weight of it all. The path wasn’t as clear as it had seemed in the weeks before when we were celebrating our national success. Now, we stood at a critical juncture, and I was bracing for the choices ahead. But standing there, I remembered something—the value of wisdom in navigating difficult, uncertain paths. Just as crossroads present both risk and opportunity, wisdom illuminates the way forward.

The Unseen Voices of Wisdom

The very act of setting apart these leaders—meeting specifically with them—felt uncomfortably similar to the process of picking a select few for the travel squad. Favoritism was something I knew could quietly erode a team’s unity, and I was determined to avoid it. To combat that perception, I initially opened the meeting to all seniors. If the numbers grew too large, I planned to invite two juniors from each team, hoping to plant seeds for future leadership and reduce the burden of "training" new leaders every year. After all, this issue of travel selection would crop up every season, unless, of course, someone on staff hit the lottery.

I thought I had everything meticulously planned. I knew the exact metrics—how much we could spend, how many seats were available in each van, each bus. I knew I had to be swift, just, and fair in my decisions, ensuring that athletes from my event group weren’t prioritized over others. I was prepared to lead these meetings, confident that I was going to be the voice of wisdom and reason.

But then something unexpected happened.

Only four seniors showed up for each gender, which was less than I anticipated. This made room for the juniors I had planned to invite, and in the end, I was able to fit them all into my small office—the six of them sitting across the blue couch and the little white love seats crammed into the space. Even though I had opened the door to leadership for anyone eligible, everyone knew this was serious business. Only those truly committed showed up, ready to take on the responsibility.

But here’s the thing—I went into that meeting thinking I was going to be the one imparting wisdom, guiding the conversation and making the hard calls. I thought I was prepared to shoulder the burden of leadership on my own. What I didn’t expect was that wisdom would come from more than just my voice. That room, that small space filled with six student-athletes, held more wisdom than I could have imagined.

Ancient Wisdom For a Modern World

Much like Proverbs 8 describes Wisdom as a voice calling out to all people—available to anyone willing to listen—I realized that wisdom wasn’t mine alone to share. It was shared among the leaders in that room, each offering insights that surprised and humbled me. As we navigated the difficult decisions about the travel squad, their perspectives brought clarity, fairness, and compassion that I hadn’t anticipated.

Wisdom, as Proverbs 8 teaches, stands at the crossroads, calling out for those who will heed her. That day, I stood at my own crossroads, believing I was the one who would guide these athletes. But in reality, it was their collective wisdom that guided us all.

Wisdom on the Whiteboard

As I uncapped the marker and began writing numbers on the whiteboard to explain the tough decisions that had to be made, I announced the topic for discussion to the group. But when I turned to make eye contact with them, I could see something in their faces—they wanted to speak. What came next were some of the most profound statements ever made in that office. You see, the athletes already knew the selection criteria. The real issue wasn’t about knowing who made the travel squad—it was about managing the emotional fallout of not being selected. And it wasn’t me who said this. They did.

They spoke about the social pressure of being chosen or left behind. Even though we repeated the criteria week after week, it was still difficult to process the outcome. Those who were selected didn’t know how to handle it either. After a pause, I asked them, "What can we do to build toward long-term success each week?"

And my very wise 22-year-olds responded with thoughts that will stay with me forever. They talked about how fairness and integrity naturally build trust and loyalty. They committed to communicating openly with their teammates about the decision-making process and emphasized that, as long as we—the coaches—recognized how difficult this was for everyone, we could work together to navigate the budget constraints.

As I listened to these athletes, I realized how important it was for me not to stand at the door proclaiming my wisdom. What I had done was far more valuable: I had pursued their wisdom. They knew things I couldn’t see from my perspective. And just as I was proud of them for coming to me, I was even more excited that we had created an environment where they felt safe and confident enough to share their wisdom with me.

Wisdom is Calling

As the season progressed, it remained incredibly challenging to inform 70 athletes that only 20 or 30 would be able to travel. Yet, despite this unfortunate reality, we faced it together. The situation felt more manageable because a group of young leaders had been invited into the conversation. They came wanting to listen, ready to engage, and I knew I had important insights to share. But equally significant was my willingness to pursue wisdom in whatever form it took.

I’m not sure where you stand in your professional life, your family, or your own pursuit of wisdom. But I do know that wisdom is calling for you—one that can profoundly shape our paths. I am truly grateful that those athletes were willing to answer that call and that I was ready to listen.