An exquisite macro photography close-up, hyper-realistic illustration of a young girl, approximately 7 years old, wearing slightly oversized rental ice skates for the first time. She stands on the edge of an ice rink, looking both nervous and curious, holding the hand of an older family friend who is gently supporting her. The ice rink glows softly with cool winter light, its surface shimmering with reflections. In the background, other skaters are slightly blurred, emphasizing motion and energy. The focus is on the contrast between the girl’s wobbling stance and her determined expression. The mood is hopeful, warm, and inspirational, symbolizing persistence and growth. The image features high detail, cinematic lighting, photorealistic textures, intricate details, sharp focus, and fine texture, with a close-up framing.

One Coat at a Time: What Ice Skating, Paint, and the Learning Pit Teach Us About Growth

The first time my wife and I took our kids ice skating, our daughter—about seven at the time—had a crystal-clear picture of how it would go. Think tiny Olympic hopeful: smooth glides, graceful twirls, maybe even some applause. Full Disney on Ice energy.

Then she got the rental skates.
She looked down. “What is that on the bottom of my skates?”
Sweet girl didn’t know ice skates had blades. The dream? Melted right there in the rental booth.

On the ice, reality hit: wobbles, wide eyes, and a strong commitment to hugging the wall. But she also skated—just a little—while holding hands with an older family friend who had been there before.

 

From “I Don’t Know” to “I Know I Don’t Know”

Before she laced up, my daughter was in the unconscious incompetence zone—she didn’t know what she didn’t know. The moment she realized this was harder than expected, she entered conscious incompetence. That’s the learning pit: the place where confidence dips, the gap between where we are and where we want to be is glaring, and our brains go, “Yikes.”

It’s not comfortable. But it’s where the real learning begins.

 

We’ve All Been There

Whether it’s:

  • Using a new AI tool

  • Rolling out a fresh curriculum

  • Trying a teaching strategy you’ve never used

We often picture ourselves nailing it right away. Smooth, in control, confident. Reality usually has other plans.

That doesn’t mean we’re failing. It means we’re in it. Growth doesn’t come from instant success—it comes from staying in the game after we realize it’s harder than we thought.

 

The Power of a Steady Hand

Sometimes we need someone who’s skated this path before.

  • A colleague

  • An instructional coach

  • Someone from your virtual PLN

Their “Here, hold on. I’ve got you” makes the ice feel less slippery. And remember: we can be that person for someone else. Every time we try something new in front of our students or peers—even when we wobble—we’re modeling productive risk-taking.

 

More Than Posters on the Wall

Our students don’t learn a growth mindset from cat posters saying “Hang in there.” They learn it by watching us:

  • Admit it’s our first time trying something

  • Say “Oops, that didn’t work. Let’s try again.”

  • Keep going when things get messy

When we show students that we’re willing to wobble, regroup, and try again, we model the mindset they need most.

A Monument to Persistence

Author John Green tells a story in The Anthropocene Reviewed (affiliate link) about a father and son who painted over a baseball. One coat, then another, and another—over decades—until it became a 2.5-ton, 14-foot ball of paint. The world’s largest. And yes, you can visit it in Alexandria, Indiana.

It doesn’t look like a baseball anymore, though. But that’s how it started: one coat at a time.

 

Your Turn

Today might not be about skating gracefully across the rink. It might be about:

  • Lacing up and stepping onto the ice

  • Adding one more coat of paint

  • Choosing to step into the learning pit—again

Learning is messy. Progress is layered. Persistence is built one honest coat at a time.

So grab your skates. Pick up your brush. Take the next step—one coat at a time.

 

Your move: What’s your “learning pit” moment this school year? Share it in the comments—your story might be the steady hand someone else needs.