Growing up, tennis was never really my thing. Sure, I had a few lessons here and there, and my brother and I would occasionally hit the courts at the park, but my skills? Let’s just say they were a work in progress. I still remember one particularly embarrassing moment when I swung my racket with all my might, only to completely miss the ball and smack myself right on the forehead. I still have a tiny scar under my eyebrow from that misadventure—definitely a story I kept to myself out of sheer embarrassment.
So, when my daughter expressed an interest in taking tennis lessons, I jumped at the chance to share my limited knowledge. I figured I could at least teach her how to hold a racket properly, and I had some “wisdom” from my own childhood experiences to pass on, like, “Remember to hit the ball, not your face!”
We started with some basics, balancing the ball on the racket and practicing our swings. Let me tell you, the first few attempts were straight out of a cartoon—lots of misses and giggles. I wanted to be the kind of parent who let my kids learn at their own pace, but honestly, I found myself wishing they could pick it up faster. Then I took a deep breath and realized how much fun they were having, regardless of their progress.
As we continued, my younger daughter quickly lost interest, opting to practice her own unique methods of hitting the ball over the net and chasing after it. This left me to focus on my older daughter, who had a spark in her eye. She had dabbled in tennis at camp and discovered that she actually enjoyed it—a significant revelation for a girl who had previously shown little interest in organized sports during her seven years of life. My wife and I were not about to force her into anything, but we were more than ready to support her newfound enthusiasm.
I helped her find her spot on the court, positioning her just inside the “T” near the service line—at least I think that’s what it’s called. I showed her how to get into a “ready” position, knees bent, racket centered. I tossed a couple of balls her way. One ended up in the net, and another flew way off toward the fence. Gradually, I began to feed her the ball lightly, and before long, she made contact!
Then it happened—a perfect return. I was taken by surprise, stumbling to hit the ball back to her. And then—another volley! I was totally unprepared and managed to hit it straight into the net. But my daughter beamed with pride. She had played a game at camp where hitting a successful return kept you in the game, and that day, she had scored her first point without going to “jail.”
We wrapped up our session, gathering stray balls scattered across the court. “How was that?” I asked her as we walked to the car, eager to know her thoughts. She looked up at me, a big smile on her face, and said simply, “Proud.”
This experience highlighted the joy of teaching my daughter something new and the bond we formed along the way. If you’re interested in learning more about parenting or family activities, check out some great resources like this one or this informative article.
In summary, teaching my daughter tennis became a wonderful opportunity to connect with her and instill a sense of achievement. Watching her confidence grow through her own efforts was truly rewarding.