School ended last Friday, and over the final week, I received notes from a few students about the positive impact I had on them this year. Those comments always fuel me. When I’m tired or stressed or frustrated, I try to always remember at least one student in that room (hopefully more) is listening, and at least one student really needs me that day. If I can help even just that one student, I’ve done something important.
I’m always reminded of how school and my teachers inspired my writing over the years and helped lead me to where I am as a professional today: a sports writer, a published author, and a teacher.
The writing bug first bit me in first grade. My grandpa had a typewriter, and I was fascinated with it; none of my friends had one in there house, and it seemed so much cooler than just writing on paper. I was obsessed with the Animorphs series, and after I would finish a book, I’d run to the basement to the typewriter and put together a summary of what I read.
At that time, I remember reading the school newsletter for the first time. Inside, there was an ad asking for student submissions. I thought it was the perfect opportunity to put the typewriter to use.
I went home that day and got to work writing a fictional story about a boy who was afraid to swim in the ocean because he was afraid sharks would eat him (ok, it was probably inspired by real events).
I turned in my story and anxiously awaited the next newsletter. They were sent out quarterly, so naturally, I had forgotten about it when the next one dropped. To my extreme pleasure, I opened up the newsletter and there was my story! I got an immediate rush of endorphins not from the fact they thought it was good enough to publish but from the idea that everyone that read this would read something I made. It made me feel like I had a voice, and from that moment, I was hooked on writing.
My fourth grade teacher was a man by the name of Frank Finale. Not only was he an elementary school teacher, but he was also a published author and poet, the first author I had ever known. Reading and writing was always a part of school, but it felt bigger in his class. One thing I will always remember is how, after lunch and recess — I now assume partially to help us calm down after going bonkers on the playground — he would read us a chapter from a book; he’d even let a couple students draw pictures on the chalkboard that corresponded to what we were reading.
I also remember he had us write poetry that he entered into contest to be published into a book of poetry from students across the country. Influenced again by Animorphs, I wrote about being a bear, ending with “for nothing challenges me and survives” (riveting, I know). Still, my poem was selected as a winner! Again, seeing my work evaluated as good enough to publish was inspirational, and I wrote so much more poetry that year (one, I remember, being about the New York Giants running back duo of Ron Dayne and Tiki Barber and comparing them to thunder and lightning).
By high school, I knew I wanted to be a sports writer, and I thought taking Advanced Placement English as a junior would challenge me and refine my skills. I was used to easing through writing at that point; any time we had an essay, I knew my skills were good enough that I didn’t have to put much thought into it. I had a good handle on the grammar rules and knew enough solid vocabulary, that I could string together sentences that, in comparison to my classmates, seemed elevated enough to earn me an A.
That changed in my first quarter with Mrs. Barbara Smith.
She saw through my facade and graded me appropriately, earning my first ever C on a report card. I was challenged. While I tried harder in quarter 2, on the final test of the quarter — about American writers — I completely mixed up two names, received an F on the test, and once again earned a C.
After the first semester of our junior year we met with our academic counselors. I didn’t have a great relationship with mine. When we had our meeting, she looked at the two Cs on my report card from AP English against the As and Bs in my other classes.
“This is going to hurt your GPA,” she said. “Maybe you shouldn’t be in this class. You should consider dropping AP English and just take honors English.”
I told her I didn’t think I wanted to do that and walked out. I knew this was the class I needed to be in. I didn’t care about my grades; I needed to learn. I needed confirmation from Mrs. Smith that I belonged. I met with her after class the next day and told her what my counselor said.
“I will not let you drop this class,” she said.
She told me I was certainly in the right class, that I was just taking some time to figure things out. She said that I saw things differently than the other students, and I just needed to work on focusing my writing instead of letting it meander with every passing thought I had.
That motivation helped push me that year and in AP English 2 the following year, taught by her husband, Myron Smith, who also helped me believe in myself. I never received a grade lower than a B in either of those classes again.
I can’t mention the teachers that inspired my writing without including my sports reporting professor at Emerson College, John Rooke. In a class full of juniors and seniors, I was one of only two sophomores in the class that spring. Our first assignment was to create a blog. We shared the link with him, and this was where we would upload all of our homework assignments. The idea was the blog would not only be a way for us to practice writing, but it would complete the writing process by publishing for anybody to read while also providing us with clips to submit to future employers.
Shore Thing Sports was born. Everything from January 2009 to May 1, 2009 was what I submitted for class, but as you can tell, I kept writing there for the next four years.
I’m thankful for the teachers I had from kindergarten through college. Even the few I didn’t like still taught me how to work with people that I didn’t see eye to eye with as well as how to tailor my writing to my audience.
He’s also always been a big supporter of my work at all stages, and we still keep in touch. He even did an interview with me over Zoom to share with my students in my journalism class.
I hope that I can, at the very least, show them the joy or value writing can have in their lives, and for some, give them the belief they need to motivate them to pursue it just like my teachers did the same for me.
Willy Robinson Provides the Feel-Good Story of the Season
Junior midfielder Willy Robinson is the best player for Scituate High School in Massachusetts. The midfielder, who plays club lacrosse for Laxachusetts and former pro Sean Morris, committed to continue playing lacrosse in college at Army.
While enjoying another successful high school season in 2024, he also experienced tragedy when his father, Scituate assistant head coach Will Robinson, passed away on Thursday, June 6.
Less than a week later, Robinson was back on the lacrosse field. He scored six goals, including the overtime game-winner, to help Scituate beat Falmouth, 12-11, in the Division 3 semifinals.
The performance was the perfect way to show why lacrosse is the Medicine Game, how it can spiritually help to heal individuals and communities. ESPN SportsCenter host Scott Van Pelt chose it as his “Best Thing I Saw Today.”
In September, I wrote21 a feature about Robinson and his decision to commit to Army for New England Lacrosse Journal.
He shared with me that he made the commitment decision with his dad by his side.
“I was with my dad. I was like, ‘Dad, this is the moment. I’ve got to do it,’” Robinson said. “I called them. He was beyond happy and proud. I couldn’t have done it without him and my grandpa. He’s never missed one of my sporting events. He and my dad have been two of the biggest influences in my life.”
Robinson told me he loves the grind and grit it takes to be a part of the lacrosse program at West Point, that playing there isn’t about flash but more “get it done, do your job.” He said playing there takes “something a little different,” and this week, he showed us all one more way he has that something different.
Father’s Day
This weekend is Father’s Day. I want to give a special shoutout to Marshall Shore, my dad, for all the work he put in over the years to support our family. One piece of wisdom he shared that I will never forget is that he wasn’t able to give me much, but one thing I will always have is my name, so do everything I can to make it respected.
In June of 2021, I wrote a piece for the USA Lacrosse Magazine website about what it was like being a dad and playing in the PLL. It was a piece I was eager to interview people for because I was going to be a first-time dad in a month. I interviewed Matt Abbott, Joel White, and Kyle Harrison for the piece, and they shared some of their favorite memories when lacrosse and fatherhood intertwined.
“My wife [Alida], Landen, and in-laws came to the game in Foxboro,” Abbott said. “He got to watch his first lacrosse game at a little over a year old. It’s a memory for me and my wife and the rest of us. We’ll have pictures to show him when he gets older. It meant the world to me.”
“Perspective is the best word,” White said. “To be able to go over and see him, and he’s smiling and been out in the heat quote-unquote ‘watching’ us play, it’s incredible. It’s very easy to flip that switch. … It’s fun to do that and see him and have him cheer me up after a tough loss.”
Harrison told me his favorite memory was the 2019 game at Homewood Field at Johns Hopkins, walking on the field — an important place in his life — with his two children. He also shared advice with me that stuck with me.
“You figure out your flow,” he said. “Smith goes to school at 8. I’ll work out for two hours. Then, I’ll get started with work and get through what I need to get through.
“You schedule calls for when you’re in the car,” he added. “You get it all done, and evening comes. You have family time, tubby time, reading time, you go to sleep, and do it all over again.”
Find a way to get it all done. It’s why I never feel bad about hearing my daughter on my audio recordings of interviews, even if she’s falsely accusing me of farting while I’m doing them.
Find more of my work:
