A practical survival guide for the wide-eyed, slightly overwhelmed, brave soul who said “sure, I’ll coach” and then immediately wondered what they just signed up for.
So, you volunteered to coach an Odyssey of the Mind team. Or maybe you were “voluntold” by your kid, your school, or the mysterious gravitational pull of glitter-covered chaos.
Either way—welcome. You’ve entered the wild, wacky, wonderful world of cardboard engineering, interpretive dance, pun-based plotlines, and the most gloriously unpredictable kind of teamwork.
As someone who’s been through the first-year gauntlet, here’s what I wish someone had handed me before I tried to build a working elevator out of duct tape and hope.
1. You Don’t Need to Know Everything (You Just Need to Ask Good Questions)
You are not the director. You are not the writer. You are definitely not the builder.
You’re more like the guide on a group quest—there to keep them on the trail, gently point out the lava pit up ahead, and remind everyone to check their backpacks for snacks and scissors.
You don’t need to solve the problem.
You need to help them learn how to solve the problem.
Pro Tip: Master the phrase, “That’s a cool idea—how could we build that using only recycled materials?” Then smile encouragingly and back away slowly.
2. The Rules Are Real—and They Matter
OM is creative, yes. But it’s also very rule-bound. Don’t let the wacky skits fool you—there’s a solid core of logistics, constraints, and structure underneath all that whimsy.
That means:
- Yes, there’s a page limit for the script.
- Yes, weight-bearing devices must follow size and material restrictions exactly.
- No, you may not touch the props during competition, even if they burst into flames. (Okay, small exaggeration—but not by much.)
Pro Tip: Read the long-term problem. Then read it again. Then read the Program Guide. Then get really cozy with the Clarifications page.
3. Creative Chaos Is Normal (and Necessary)
Your practices will look like a tornado hit a craft store.
That’s okay.
Your team may go in five directions at once, argue passionately about what sound a toaster makes, and change their entire plotline one week before competition.
That’s also okay.
The point isn’t a perfect product. The point is the process—that beautiful, brain-stretching, patience-testing, teamwork-forging journey they take together.
Pro Tip: Document their chaos with photos. You’ll laugh later. Maybe.
4. Spontaneous Is Not Optional
Spontaneous problems are a full 25%–33% of your team’s final score, and yet most first-year teams treat them like an afterthought.
Don’t make that mistake.
Make spontaneous a ritual. Open every practice with a five-minute challenge.
- Quick verbal games
- Hands-on problem-solving
- Weird, silly team-building exercises
Not only does it build essential skills—it warms up their brains and helps your team bond.
Pro Tip: Keep a spontaneous grab bag in your coach kit—ping-pong balls, pipe cleaners, index cards, LEGOs, etc. You’ll use it a lot.
5. You Will Doubt Everything. Then It Will All Come Together (Kind Of)
At some point, your team will seem hopelessly behind.
They’ll forget lines.
Someone will cry. (Probably you.)
The backdrop will collapse.
Nothing will be finished.
You’ll start mentally rehearsing how to explain the disaster to their parents.
Then, magically, in the final weeks—they’ll pull it off.
They’ll duct-tape their way to brilliance. They’ll find last-minute inspiration. They’ll work past their differences. They’ll make something only they could make.
And win or lose, you’ll be proud in a way that’s hard to describe.
Pro Tip: Trust the process. Freak out privately. Celebrate loudly.
6. You Are Building Something Bigger Than a Skit
Yes, it’s about the competition.
But really, it’s about teaching kids how to think for themselves, work through frustration, trust their teammates, and bounce back from setbacks. That stuff lasts.
Even if their costume falls apart on stage.
Even if their contraption never quite works.
Even if you never want to see another glue gun again in your life.
You’re giving them something real—and they’ll remember it.
Final Thoughts from a Seasoned (and Slightly Singed) Coach:
- Pack snacks.
- Bring a cooler on competition day.
- Don’t forget duct tape, scissors, safety pins, and backup music files.
- Keep the parents in the loop—and out of the building zone.
- And above all: laugh often. If you’re not having fun, the kids won’t either.
You’ve got this. You’re doing important work. And someday, when your team walks off the stage grinning ear to ear, you’ll know: this chaotic, creative, exhausting job was one of the best choices you ever made.
Even if your garage will never be the same again.
