The Tools We Cling To
Coaching, identity, and the careful art of working beneath behaviour
There is a moment early in Think Again where Adam Grant reflects on the tools we cling to. It is a simple phrase, but one that quietly lingers.
When we hear the word tools, most of us imagine something visible and tangible. A firefighter’s axe. A builder’s trowel. A carpenter’s chisel. The obvious equipment of a profession. The objects that signal competence and capability.
Coaching has borrowed this language for years. We talk about the “coaching toolbox” as though effective practice is simply a matter of collecting enough techniques, models, interventions, or drills. And while there is some usefulness in that metaphor, it can also flatten the complexity of what coaches actually do.
Personally, I’ve always preferred the idea of a coaching cabinet rather than a toolbox.
A toolbox can imply fixed instruments and predictable applications. A cabinet, however, feels more nuanced. More deliberate. It suggests selection, judgment, timing, dexterity, and care. It recognises that expertise is not simply owning more tools, but knowing what to use, when to use it, why to use it, and perhaps most importantly, when not to use it.
But the more I think about Grant’s point, the more I wonder whether many of the tools coaches cling to are not really tools at all.
They are parts of themselves.
Because coaches do not only operate through methods and behaviours. They coach through assumptions. Through instincts. Through experiences. Through values. Through habits that have become deeply embedded over time.
And that changes everything.
Beyond behaviour
In coach development, especially when working in more emergent and embedded ways, the work often begins at the surface.
What are the goals?
What behaviours are visible?
What strategies are being used?
What decisions are being made?
But if the conversation continues long enough — if trust grows, reflection deepens, and curiosity remains present — the work inevitably starts moving underneath the visible layer.
We move from:
What are you doing?
towards:
Why do you see it that way?
And eventually perhaps towards:
What experiences shaped that instinct in the first place?
That is where coach development becomes both powerful and delicate.
Because now we are no longer discussing technical behaviour alone. We are approaching identity.
A coach’s assumptions are rarely random. Their habits were usually reinforced somewhere. Their instincts often emerged from years of lived experience. Their beliefs may have protected them, rewarded them, or helped them survive difficult environments.
So when we challenge a coach’s assumptions, we are not always challenging a detachable idea.
Sometimes we are brushing against a part of self.
And if we forget that, coach development can quickly become careless.
The danger of the metaphorical pickaxe
There is a temptation within development work to become overconfident in disruption.
To pride ourselves on “challenging thinking.”
To celebrate discomfort.
To position ourselves as the person who “breaks old habits.”
But perhaps this is where restraint matters most.
Because not every assumption needs smashing.
Not every instinct needs removing.
Not every habit is dysfunctional simply because it is established.
A well-learned habit is difficult to shift precisely because it has likely worked before.
An established assumption often exists because it once made sense.
And instincts are rarely formed in isolation. They are shaped through repetition, emotion, pressure, relationships, culture, and memory.
This is why the image of entering coach development with a metaphorical pickaxe feels uncomfortable.
Swing too hard and you do not create reflection.
You create defensiveness.
Or worse, damage.
There is something important in recognising that exploration is not excavation.
The goal is not to dig up somebody’s coaching identity and leave pieces scattered around the floor.
The goal is understanding.
Curiosity.
Careful noticing.
Thoughtful nudging.
From correction to consideration
Perhaps effective coach development is less about correction and more about consideration.
Not:
“That assumption is wrong.”
But:
“What experiences have strengthened that assumption?”
Not:
“You need to stop doing that.”
But:
“What purpose is that behaviour serving for you right now?”
Not:
“Replace this habit.”
But:
“What alternatives might also be possible?”
There is a profound difference between removing something and expanding something.
The latter tends to preserve dignity.
And dignity matters in learning.
Particularly with experienced coaches who may have built entire careers around certain ways of seeing, communicating, and leading.
The hidden cognitive tools coaches carry
The interesting thing is that many cognitive tools are almost invisible to the person carrying them.
A coach may not realise they consistently:
default to control under pressure
interpret silence as disengagement
equate challenge with care
value resilience over vulnerability
reward obedience more than exploration
seek certainty too quickly
rely on instinct over observation
These are not simply techniques.
They are lenses.
And lenses are difficult to see while looking through them.
This is why reflection matters so much.
Not reflection as performance.
Not reflection as paperwork.
But reflection as genuine examination.
The opportunity to pause long enough to notice:
what we repeatedly return to
what we instinctively protect
what we avoid questioning
what feels threatening to reconsider
Because often the most influential tools in coaching are the ones we no longer notice ourselves carrying.
Coach development as careful architecture
Maybe coach development is less like demolition and more like architecture.
An architect does not simply remove structures because they are old.
They first seek to understand:
what is load-bearing
what has historical value
what creates stability
what can be adapted
what space exists for extension
Some beliefs support confidence.
Some habits create psychological safety.
Some instincts enable quick action under pressure.
Rip everything apart too quickly and the whole structure can collapse.
This does not mean avoiding challenge.
Far from it.
It means challenge must come with understanding.
With timing.
With relationship.
With enough trust that the coach feels explored with, rather than dismantled by.
The importance of time
One of the most important questions in coach development may simply be:
Do we actually have enough time for this conversation?
Because meaningful exploration cannot always be rushed.
You cannot ask somebody to reconsider years of reinforced experience inside a twenty-minute intervention and expect transformation.
Some assumptions need revisiting repeatedly.
Some habits soften slowly.
Some instincts only become visible after trust has accumulated.
And sometimes the most valuable thing a coach developer offers is not an answer but sustained presence.
The willingness to stay in the conversation long enough for somebody to think differently for themselves.
Nudging rather than forcing
Perhaps the real craft lies in nudging.
Not pushing.
Not imposing.
Not declaring intellectual superiority.
Just creating enough movement that new possibilities become visible.
A thoughtful question.
A different perspective.
A moment of dissonance.
A story.
A pause.
A reflection that gently unsettles certainty without threatening identity.
Because people rarely change deeply held beliefs through force.
More often they shift through safety, curiosity, and gradual reconsideration.
And maybe that is the deeper invitation behind Think Again.
Not simply to rethink ideas.
But to recognise how tightly some ideas are attached to who we believe ourselves to be.
Questions worth sitting with
As coach developers, mentors, leaders, or reflective practitioners, perhaps there are some questions worth holding carefully:
Which coaching tools have become part of my identity rather than simply part of my practice?
What assumptions do I defend most quickly?
Which habits feel difficult to question?
What instincts do I trust automatically?
Where did those instincts come from?
Which beliefs genuinely serve my coaching?
Which beliefs might simply feel familiar?
When supporting coaches, am I seeking understanding or merely change?
Do I challenge with care?
Am I creating reflection, or unintentionally creating threat?
Because the work is not simply helping coaches do differently.
Sometimes it is helping people see differently.
And that requires a level of care far greater than any toolbox metaphor can fully capture.