Not Every Story is a Success Story—And That’s Okay

In the world of executive function coaching, we often highlight the wins—the student who starts turning in their homework, the one who finally builds a consistent routine, or the teenager who becomes more organized and independent. Those stories are inspiring, and they’re important to share. But today, I want to share something different.

This is a story about a student I worked with early in my coaching career, one that didn’t have the success I had hoped for—but it taught me more than I could have imagined.

The student had been working with a psychiatrist, though the diagnosis wasn’t clearly defined. What was clear, however, was that he was struggling. He was in high school, often ran away when it was time to attend school, would disappear on tutors, was argumentative with his parents, and sometimes even aggressive. His parents, desperate for support, reached out to me for executive function coaching.

If you know me, you know I have a hard time saying no. Some of the most meaningful coaching relationships I’ve had started with students who didn’t want to be in coaching at all. And I truly believe that sometimes coaching is about planting seeds. The growth doesn’t always happen in front of us—it might just be breaking through the surface when our work together ends. In fact, I’ve had students reach out years later to tell me how helpful our work was, even if it didn’t feel like it at the time.

But this student? He wasn’t turning in assignments. He wasn’t going to school. From an executive function standpoint—time management, task initiation, planning—we weren’t making measurable progress.

And yet, something interesting was happening.

He never ran away from me. He showed up to every session. We would talk—about life, the world, his interests, everything but executive functions. And while I struggled to check the boxes of progress, I now realize something vital: we were working on executive function. Just not the kind I was expecting.

Looking back with more experience under my belt, I had an aha moment: I started in the wrong place. I jumped in where I thought we needed to begin—time management, planning, school engagement. But those are advanced executive functions. This student needed to build a foundation first.

He was practicing self-regulation. Sitting with an adult. Having a conversation. Not fleeing. Not arguing. Not shutting down.

That was progress. That was growth.

Eventually, I made the difficult decision to end coaching. His family was struggling financially, and his psychiatric care was more critical at the time. I couldn’t make headway on the goals I had set, and I didn’t yet understand how to redefine success in the way I do now.

Would I do the same thing today?

Maybe. Maybe not.

I do know this: sometimes we don't get to be the one who sees the plant bloom. But we may be the one who watered the seed just enough for the next person to nurture it. And that’s enough.

To any parents or professionals reading this—if you’ve ever felt like progress isn’t happening, take a moment to look for growth in the roots, not just the leaves. Sometimes, that’s where the real change begins.