the tail end
editorial@usdf.org
Mother-daughter dynamic comes into play when mom tries to teach her daughter on a new horse By Katherine Roe
M
y daughter Sophie was about to turn 13 when we purchased a four-year-old off-the-track Thoroughbred. Sound like a bad idea? It was, and it wasn’t. When we went to try Cisco, our trainer and his owner liked the way that Sophie and I worked with him. I had ridden extensively in my teens and twenties, and I was excited to share my love of horses with my daughter. Other than a fear of trails in the woods, Cisco was very quiet the first
him strength and confidence. Off we went (not literally, but we came close) around the indoor at high speeds. We spent most of that winter lungeing. Working with Cisco and Sophie became a delicate balancing act. We tried to maintain our program of one to two lessons a month with our beloved trainer, who helped us to address Cisco’s tight back and guided us through each step in his training. But three to five days a week, it was just Cisco, Sophie, and me in the ring.
FAMILY FOOTSTEPS: Sophie Roe and Cisco
nine months that we had him. Then the terrible fives (to my mind, the equine equivalent of the toddler “terrible twos”) set in. His Australian Thoroughbred back seized up in the Vermont winter cold, and good nutrition and steady work had given
Some days, it was easy: Cisco listened to Sophie, and Sophie listened to me. Other days were more challenging. Daughters don’t always want to listen to mothers, and horses don’t always want to listen to riders. Sometimes I found myself taking
48 December 2018/January 2019 • USDF CONNECTION
Katherine Roe is a speech language pathologist assistant and a proud mom of three who is still horse-crazy after more decades than she cares to admit. Sophie Roe is a first-year student at the University of Vermont, majoring in animal science and riding on the UVM equestrian team. Both happily live and ride in Vermont.
COURTESY OF KATHERINE ROE
Teaching Two
Cisco’s side, advocating for his wellbeing when Sophie became impatient with his slow progress or spooky behavior. I preached that the horse looks to us for guidance, reassurance, and leadership. Failure to do what Sophie asked usually resulted from a lack of clear rider communication or of physical readiness on Cisco’s part, I intoned, not unwillingness. Despite her glares, I felt that these were important life lessons for a young rider to learn. Other times, when Cisco would pitch bucks that would nearly unseat Sophie, I was totally on her side. I frequently reflected on whether my daughter was right when she accused me of being overprotective. This was the most difficult dynamic to work out. As a mom, was I overreacting out of concern for her safety? Was I slowing Sophie’s and Cisco’s progress? If it had been financially feasible, should I have stepped away and let others take my spot in the ring? For a few years, the show grounds were a place where I did step away. Sophie would put on her trainer’s wireless earbuds, and together they would tackle the warm-up. I stayed on the sidelines, dry-mouthed and pale. If tears flowed after a disappointing test, the trainer’s reassuring words meant much more to Sophie than my own attempts to comfort her. Today, five years into our journey with Cisco, dressage shows are more relaxed. Sophie earned a score of 66 percent at Second Level at a recent schooling show. Sophie and I have both learned valuable lessons about teaching, learning, and patience. Most of all, we’re proud of how this unlikely pair has learned so much and come so far. s