I have twins—a boy and a girl—and back in second grade, I enrolled my daughter in a self-esteem running program called Mini Mermaids. It aimed to teach young girls how to silence that negative self-talk and embrace their strengths. Little did I realize the unintended consequences of my decision.

My son, indignant and filled with righteous fury, confronted the parent leader/volunteer, questioning how they could exclude boys. Explaining life’s unfairness to a six-year-old is no easy task, especially when his sister seemed to be getting more opportunities, a fact that irked him to no end.

Then, one fateful week before the start of third grade, while cleaning out the PTA closet at school, I bumped into the new principal. “Hello, Mrs. Lahey, my name is Eric. This year, I’m introducing Young Tritons—a running program for boys,” I declared. I enthusiastically shared the merits of the Mini Mermaids program and explained what I believed I could do for boys.

Fast forward six months, and after rigorous training to keep up with the boys, marketing efforts, recruiting, and finding an assistant coach, I found myself on the soccer field in the spring of 3rd grade with a staggering count of 23 boys. Any teacher knows that when a class has a significantly higher number of boys than girls, challenges lie ahead. I had 23 of them.

They tested our patience from the get-go. Many couldn’t pass a stick without wielding it as a sword or playfully brandishing it at their friends. By the fifth session, I learned that if I couldn’t spot Ashton on the field, I had to look up because he had an uncanny knack for climbing everything in sight. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and we resorted to bribes—earning one M&M for completing a lap around the field.

Yet, the greatest concern that plagued me was the sight of 2 or 3 boys entangled in wrestling matches whenever I turned my back for a mere 5 seconds. Sometimes, my own son was right in the midst of it all! Determined to find a solution, I stumbled upon an article in Psychology Today discussing boys and play fighting.

In the next session, I gathered the boys and inquired whether their wrestling was fueled by disagreements or just playful in nature. “Yes, coach, we just love to play,” they responded with gleeful enthusiasm. Seizing the moment, I established ground rules: “If you’re going to play fight, you need a safe environment. If anyone says ‘bananas,’ playtime must stop, and everyone needs to ensure that everyone else is okay.” In a matter of seconds, I found myself surrounded by eight pairs of boys, giggling and laughing, tugging and playing—doing what boys have done since time immemorial. It was as if I had unwittingly created a fight club. Thankfully, Principal Lahey had already left for the day. While the first rule of fight club is that nobody talks about fight club, these were just kids, and their well-being was my responsibility. The following session, I sternly instructed all the boys that physical contact was strictly prohibited.”

But a lot of great experiences happened.

  • The boys took turns running a water station for others that were doing laps.
  • The boys played on the highschool track. Seeing what they could look forward to.
  • we took a group photo before our practice race in Henry Cowell that I’ll never forget.
  • My youngest boy ran the final race with his older sister. It became the marketing picture for Santa Cruz Young Tritons for the next year.

I learned a lot of things in third grade:

  • I learned it took a lot of preparation and worry before each session.
  • I learned to cherish the joy the boys exuded whenever they ran and played.
  • I learned that their growth and achievements was my reward.
  • And I got a small glimpse of why my mother loved being a teacher so much.