TRANSITION INTERVIEW #18: Ian Johnson.

A conversation about leaving pro basketball, writing, and rethinking the way we educate middle school boys.

Ian Johnson is a former European league basketball player, author of The Bounce and the Echo, and an English teacher at Seven Hills School in Richmond, VA. We talk about life’s TRANSITIONs - from chasing an NBA dream, to playing in Spain, Sweden, and the Czech Republic, to walking away from the game and reshaping his identity through travel, writing, and teaching.

We also discuss the philosophy behind Seven Hills and its unique approach to educating middle school boys—one grounded in movement, experiential learning, and authentic relationships. We talk about the necessity of building trust with each student and the importance of individualizing how boys are taught and recognizing that no single method works for everyone. Ian shares what the boys have taught him, and how teaching has helped him better understand his own story.

I appreciate you doing this. Tell me where you grew up?

I was born in Pittsburgh, spent a couple years in Europe as a kid. Couple years in Germany, summer in France, summer in Switzerland, moved back to Pittsburgh, and then lived in Charlottesville, VA for high school.

I went to Davidson College in North Carolina, played basketball.

Tried out for the NBA. Wasn't quite athletic enough.

So, you end up playing in a European league? Which country?

I started in Spain with a team in Gijon, Spain. On the northern coastline.

I had some tough things going on in my life at the time, so it wasn't the best experience. After the first half of that season, I moved to a team in the Czech Republic.

That was much better, but they ended up not having the cash to pay us, so I went to a team in Sweden, and that's where I ended up playing most of my career.

And was your goal to come back and play in the NBA?

Well, my dream has been to play in the NBA ever since I was a kid. It's funny, though, that I read an article where someone interviewed me during my senior year of high school. I told the journalist, "I'd love to play in Europe at some point."

(Laughter.) Maybe I didn't let myself dream big enough.

Anyway. European leagues are super competitive. It's better than even high-level division one here. It's grown men. The atmosphere, the intensity, the chaos in the stands and the passion of the fans... That's not to knock the NBA.

The season is shorter over there. Every game matters a bit more.

You ended up writing a book, largely about your departure from your life as a basketball player. While playing, did you have any ideas about what you might like to do outside of basketball?

If you asked me that question when I was twenty-six years old, I'd have given you an answer. I got my master's degree toward the end of my career – Environmental Policy.

I thought I wanted to be part of the environmental movement somehow.

I also enjoyed writing.

That kind of stuff was all on the surface; at the deeper level, at my core, I had very little ability to determine what I wanted without someone telling me.

Since I was a child, there were people in my life who would tell me when to practice, when to lift weights, what teams to play for, and how much money I should be getting paid. Everything.

Basketball is over. All of that stops. That proved rather difficult.

Tell me about that. Did you pursue a career in environmental policy?

When I retired, I was not yet done with my degree.

I think I retired on a Wednesday, and by that Saturday, I was on a train to Romania, looking to see the world.

I didn't move back to the United States permanently for three years. I spent time in Canada.

Almost went back to basketball. I lived in the U.S. for nine months, but then I met a friend, and we decided to go to South America for a while. Went to India. Southeast Asia.

I was doing all kinds of things, such that I didn't have to figure myself out.

Eventually, one day, I was in Thailand on my computer. I'd booked a flight to New Zealand, and to visit New Zealand, you have to have a flight out.

I thought, I'll either go to Iran after this, or go home.

I went home. I flew back to Richmond.

What an experience. When you look back at that time, what was motivating you? Something you were looking for? Something at home – you were staying away from?

Good question. Curiosity? I'd started reading a ton. That taught me there was a lot about the world I didn't know. A lot of beliefs I had about the way the world worked – maybe they weren't exactly true?

Maybe the way I thought about myself wasn't true.

Travel, in a way, is a means to figure that out. A way to test that sort of thing.

And did you maintain many close relationships in the U.S. through all of this?

At that time, some members of my family were taking their own journey. Some through alcoholism, through addiction, maybe reliving childhood memories in a way.

I was involved with my family. But we weren't as close as we are now.

What happened to basketball? What's your relationship with the sport today? You ever play? Follow the NBA or any of that?

After I retired, I spent a long time not watching, not touching a ball, but eventually, I came back to it.

Now I watch the games.

What's it like departing life as a SEAL?

It's hard work. When I started doing these interviews, they had mostly to do with military separation. You try to find recurring themes, but it's complex; everyone's experience is unique, I think.

It has a lot to do with ego—not in an "egomaniac" way but trying to understand who you are if you're not a SEAL or whatever you did in the military. It's easy to see your job and your identity as synonymous, especially if you're participating in combat.

Do you maintain the identity without the job? Or not? I think the later you are in life, the harder that becomes.

Yes. Especially if you've been that person for as long as you can remember. Since childhood.

I think a lot of people just don't do it. If you believe the peak version of yourself is behind you. The idea of a pivot is not… welcoming.

Maybe that's a good thing about writing or playing the piano. Reasonable to think you can get better. Forever.

Exactly right. I noticed Tom Brady this past fall, playing twenty years at the top of a sport. He retires, and he's back at the stadium on Sundays in the broadcast booth the very next season?

That's anecdotal, but you see that often. For some reason, I find myself rooting for that person, hoping they find something else.

That's right. Is that something you really want to do, or is it something you can do – know how to do?

Where do you find inspiration for your writing or in life more broadly?

I didn't start reading like I do now until my late twenties.

At some point, I became curious about the classics. Someone pointed me toward the Russians, "Crime and Punishment," "War and Peace," Dostoyevsky, and Tolstoy. Those are sort of a foundation.

I appreciate a good love story. I really admire "The Marriage Plot "by Jeffrey Eugenides.

I think "The Red and the Black" by Stendhal is one of the best books ever written. I had a David Foster Wallace phase (laughter).

I love non-fiction as well, biographies, I had a Civil War phase when I moved to Richmond. Probably read ten books on the Civil War.

In the same way that basketball might have been an escape. I think reading can sit in that place now.

How did you happen across Seven Hills School?

I moved to Richmond. I'd been working in youth education, mainly coaching – camps, clinics, this type of thing. I was looking to get away from the nights and weekends schedule.

Seven Hills came up in a Google search, and immediately I thought, this is my school.

What is it about Seven Hills' approach that you find most effective or beneficial when compared to the traditional way we educate middle-school boys?

Well to preface, I want to say Seven Hills is fortunate to be self-contained. We control our student counts, we have the resources and the staff necessary to create an environment that I believe is beneficial for middle-school boys.

I've never met an educator or administrator from a traditional school system, and they've said, "I don't want our boys to have the resources that Seven Hills has."

So, when I speak about what's working at Seven Hills, I think it's important not to do so as a critique of other schools.

There's a disparity of resources when it comes to education in this country. It isn't negligence that makes the difference, at least in most cases.

Anyway, I'll tell you one thing we do well, that other schools might not do as well, is establishing a relationship with every boy. We have ninety-six boys at the moment and eighteen staff members.

I know every boy in the school and the teachers prioritize those relationships. That's number one.

And help me understand what that looks like? I suppose if I went to the middle school down the street, the teachers would claim they also have a relationship with every boy. But I don't think that's the same as what you're talking about?

You're right. When I was a middle schooler, I was fortunate enough – generally – to feel safe. What I've learned by working at Seven Hills, is that unless a boy feels emotionally safe and physically safe, learning is not going to happen. So, they depend on us to create that environment.

Conversely, the students have taught me a lot about my own life and my own childhood. When I was middle-school age, I was experiencing OCD symptoms and struggled to understand why, or, how the whole thing worked. And so the boys - being a middle school teacher has helped me better understand that.

That type of thing. That's an example of the authenticity involved when I say we establish a "relationship" with the boys.

That makes a lot of sense. I was an Adderall prescribed, ADD diagnosed kid. How much of the impact Seven Hills is able to have - would you say is a product of an uptick in physical activity? Finding ways to educate outside of the classroom?

Well, a good bit, but deeper than that is the school's recognition that there are many different types of boys.

We welcome boys that are quieter - might want to read for seven hours a day and we also welcome boys who would prefer to live on the soccer field, just want to play basketball, and some that want to draw all day.

We try to encourage that part of them and that's what motivates the higher level of physical activity.

We have what we call "Experiential Learning" on Fridays. The whole school will meet on the James River and do something hands on, different things, different outdoor experience.

Art by Avery H., student at Seven Hills School.

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In terms of student population, are these predominately boys who've given the traditional classroom model a try, and are in search of an alternative? Or is it more a scenario where a family is aware of Seven Hills reputation and thinks, "I want that for my son."?

I'd say the way in which students come to Seven Hills are as diverse as the students themselves.

Some parents think, 'My child is leaving elementary school; there's no longer recess every day. I know my child needs that, so we're looking at Seven Hills.'

Other parents think, 'I know my sons a little different. He could use the emotional support the school provides.

Makes sense.

The school has grown a lot. It started in 2001. In a perfect world, we would take every kid that applied – every kid that genuinely wanted to be there. But you know, interest has grown.

Seven Hills was named an AMLE School of Distinction. Only forty-three schools in the country reach that recognition. It's a big deal.

I guess all that's to say, there's a ton of ways in which the students arrive at the school.

You maintain the school's Lit Magazine "Ashes and the Sparks", what do you try to impress upon the boys in terms of, what can be enjoyable about writing?

"Ashes and the Sparks" is a way to help highlight the boys writing. They can submit to the magazine, but more often, one of the teachers will send me something a student has created. A short story, or a poem.

They'll send it to me. There's a 1:1 editing process which I think is sometimes scary for the boys? But also rewarding, maybe?

We'll go back and forth a bit and then publish it in the literary magazine.

The hope is that they're proud of that. Being able to say, "they're being published."

How do you define "good" writing when talking to a middle-schooler?

Interesting question.

We work on adhering to readable standards and grammar. I don't dismiss experimental writing; I think there's a place in poetry for that, but at that age, I think it's important not to dismiss grammar.

Maybe not the best time to tell them it's okay to write without periods. (Laughter)

Clarity. I try to convey that writing can be dense, difficult even, but it should be readable. Are they making their points clear?

And then I encourage them to find voice. Sometimes, I'll read an essay and you can hear mimicking in a way. A mimicking of the example essay, the student newspaper or something.

If you can do those three things in middle school. Outstanding.

What do you think defines good writing?

I'd have to think about what I would tell a middle-schooler. Generally, I think if you can cause an emotional reaction in the reader - someone you've never met – then I suppose it's good. You've kind of done it.

All of these end with the same question. If you could back, prior to your TRANSITION from basketball, what would you tell yourself?

I don't know. Those questions are interesting, but I wonder if you really want to change things.

I try to tell myself; life is exactly what it is. To be grateful for the journey. I'm not sure I believe everything happens for a reason, but I think you can accept that everything has happened.

Even if I was dealing with OCD or even considered taking my own life at a point. There's comfort in accepting that however things came to be, is how they came to be. Not think too much about going back and wishing this or that.

Ian, thank you. I appreciate you doing this, I appreciate your story, and I certainly appreciate what you do at Seven Hills.