The Piano Lid

There are some lessons you never forget.

Not because someone taught them well.

Because they taught them poorly.

For me, one of those lessons began when I was five years old.

My parents enrolled me in piano lessons.

My teacher was an incredibly accomplished pianist.

She could play beautifully.

But being a brilliant musician and being a great teacher are not the same thing.

Unfortunately, I discovered that very quickly.

Learning to Be Afraid

For the next three years, I did everything I could to avoid practising.

My parents tried everything.

Encouragement.

Bribery.

Persistence.

Nothing worked.

From the outside, it probably looked like I was lazy.

Disinterested.

Unmotivated.

But that wasn't the real problem.

I wasn't refusing to learn.

I was refusing to return to a place where it no longer felt safe to make mistakes.

One lesson changed everything.

I played the wrong note.

The response wasn't patience.

Or encouragement.

Or curiosity.

The piano lid was slammed shut on my hands.

It hurt.

Not just physically.

Something inside me quietly decided:

"I'm never doing this again."

Eventually I refused to practise.

I refused the lessons.

I refused the piano altogether.

No amount of convincing could change my mind.

The instrument wasn't the problem.

The environment was.

We Often Misdiagnose the Problem

Looking back, I realise how easy it would have been for someone to label me.

"He's lazy."

"He's not musical."

"He doesn't apply himself."

But none of those things were true.

I simply didn't feel safe.

How often do we make the same mistake as leaders?

Someone stops contributing in meetings.

Someone avoids taking initiative.

Someone becomes quiet.

Someone resists feedback.

Our first instinct is often to ask,

"What's wrong with them?"

Perhaps the better question is,

"What happened to make this feel unsafe?"

Behaviour often tells the story that words never do.

Safety Before Growth

One of the greatest lessons coaching has taught me is that people don't grow because they're pushed.

They grow because they feel safe enough to try.

Safe enough to ask questions.

Safe enough to admit they don't know.

Safe enough to fail.

Safe enough to get it wrong without fearing humiliation.

That doesn't mean lowering standards.

Quite the opposite.

The safest coaching relationships are often the ones where people are challenged the most.

Because challenge without trust feels like criticism.

Challenge with trust feels like belief.

Coming Back to the Piano

Years later, something unexpected happened.

I returned to the piano.

Not because someone forced me.

Because I wanted to.

It began with worship music.

I wanted to play the songs that had become meaningful to my faith.

Eventually I began writing music of my own.

The same instrument.

A completely different experience.

What changed?

Not the piano.

Me?

Not entirely.

The environment.

This time there was no fear.

No shame.

No piano lid waiting to punish a wrong note.

Only freedom to learn.

To experiment.

To make mistakes.

Ironically, I learned more once I stopped being afraid of getting it wrong.

The Piano Lid We Carry

The older I get, the more convinced I become that many adults are still carrying invisible piano lids.

Someone laughed when they spoke up in a meeting.

Someone dismissed an idea.

A manager embarrassed them in front of the team.

A teacher told them they weren't good enough.

A parent compared them to someone else.

A coach made failure feel personal.

Years later they're still capable.

Still gifted.

Still full of potential.

But they're protecting their hands.

Leadership isn't just about developing skills.

Sometimes it's about gently convincing people that the lid isn't going to slam shut this time.

The Safest Place in the Room

When people ask me what makes a good coach, they often expect me to talk about questions.

Or coaching models.

Or powerful frameworks.

Those things matter.

But over the years I've become convinced they aren't the foundation.

Safety is.

Because people rarely grow in places where they're afraid.

The best leaders don't remove accountability.

They remove unnecessary fear.

They create environments where people can be honest, curious and courageous.

Where mistakes become lessons instead of labels.

Where feedback becomes a gift instead of a threat.

Where people aren't defined by their worst moment.

That's the kind of leader I want to become.

And that's the kind of coach I hope every person experiences.

Because every leader is creating an environment.

The only question is...

Are people becoming more willing to try because of you...

...or more afraid to fail?

Reflection

Before your next coaching conversation, ask yourself:

• When someone makes a mistake, what emotion do they experience first—fear or curiosity?

• Do the people I lead feel safe enough to admit they don't know?

• Am I correcting behaviour, or unintentionally creating fear?

• What invisible "piano lids" might the people around me still be carrying?

• How can I create an environment where people are willing to play the next note?