I began teaching in the early 1970’s. My biggest problem was credibility and my youthful appearance. I was a newbie. At one of my first Open Houses, I overheard a parent of one of my students comment that she couldn’t figure out who was the teacher. I was standing right in front of her. She thought I looked too much like a student.  The parent was hesitant to have her daughter in my class;  she wanted a teacher with more experience.

I resolved at that point to do something. Experience I would get by teaching more but my appearance I could change. I chose to grow a beard. more…

I’m not sure where I’m going with this yet. It came to mind as I was trying to sleep last night:

Of all the members of the family, she is the most looked up to. Her 90 plus years not withstanding, she commands deference with just the tone and confidence in her voice. Great Aunt Lil was a distinctive woman from an early age. Her quest for knowledge out shined all the rest of her family, which would explain why she is the one we all go to when we need advice. There was not a problem, issue or need that we had that she did not have some quote to guide us on our way.
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I’ve been an advocate for teaching Personal Safety in schools for most of my teaching career. In the district that I worked in, I had little success. Other than when an unknown car stops children on the road, does it get discussed in class. At that point a memo goes out to staff and parents from the district describing the incident and reminding parents that it will be/was discussed in school as part of their regular Personal Safety discussions. Other than brief discussions in class at that moment, nothing else is done. I’ve been out of the classroom for 2 years now, but do not think that much has changed.

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I’ve written about people that I have lasting memories of. My last entry talked about noise that I made as a kid and the effects it had on certain people that lived in my apartment complex. I’ve also written about my 5th grade teacher, Miss Hurrell and how she helped me understand the meaning of trust and faith in the class that she was teaching. I thought this time, that I would focus on some of the more interesting personalities of other teachers I have had.
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I’m reading a wonderfully insightful book, called Story Proof: the science behind the startling power of story by Kendall Haven. I recommend it to anyone that deals with children. One of the things Haven mentions in his book is how narrative writing is all about character. At times when I share stories with my son I ask him which character from the past would he like to learn about, someone from my past or someone from his? Lately it’s made me think more and more about a number of characters that I recall from my life. Today’s theme is “Noise” and here are some of those unforgettable characters:
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I participated in a workshop over a year ago, from Master Storyteller, Elizabeth Ellis. She explained that as storytellers we wear three different kinds of hats. As a storyteller I am an artist, craftsperson, and businessperson. Here are the notes that I wrote at her workshop:

Artist: Researches, writes, new work, how does this part go with that. Does deep thought. What does my work need to meet the needs of the audience; wants to make a connection; what it means to their life.

Craftsperson: Teller: detail oriented; Chooses the stories to tell. Concerned about audience’s reaction and logistics of storytelling situation

Businessperson: Decision maker, marketing - process what is acceptable and accessible to this audience.  How are we going to get invited back; Oversees tasks to be done, requires others to do them. Responsible for public relations.
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A walk in the woods

The dreariness of the day limits the amount of hikers

The quiet of the forest

Streams formed by the rain of yesterday

Some trickling down the path we walk on

Others in torrents, slowly eroding the sands beneath our feet

Boulders covered with moss and lichen

Slimy to the touch, slippery to traverse

Do we take the longer hike around the ridge to the top

Or the shorter, straight up on the wet boulders

The longer has the view, the shorter has the adventure

All roads lead to Rome, so we take the long way up, the short way down.

Fog descends from above to cover the vista view

It plays peek-a-boo with us, teasing us with glimpses of the lake

Our choice was good, we get to see sites that the other hikers miss in the fog

The way back is steep

Jackets get tied around our waists

Sweat drenches our shirts as we complete our journey

A passerby takes a picture of the three of us.

It is the only one of us three together on our week-long trip.

Back to the solitude of our cottage

Lunch, a rest and then back on the road again.

As my summer vacation progresses I continue to observe tourists that we run into on our travels. Of course I’m not denying the fact that we are tourists also. I am sure we are being watched by others. I certainly am being observed and commented upon by my son. He says he can spot a tourist at any distance. That’s not hard to believe, since basically most of the people that we are seeing here on Desert Island in Maine are tourists. I may not remember a particular place we went to, but the people we saw will generally stick in my mind.

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What would a family trip be, without the option to look in on ourselves and other people traveling and gaining a better insight into the human condition? We start at the home front and look in at my own family as they prepare to depart. The closer we get to departure time, the more tense the situation is.  Are all the bags packed? Did you forget to set the air conditioners? What about all the plethora of medications that we always take on our trips, most of which will stay in their respective utility bags without being touched? The answer to this last question is usually yes we have packed them all, and yes we do need them all, because you never know. Then there is the packing of the car itself. What can be stored for long term retrieval and what has to have immediate access. If it is going to rain. . . maybe. . . we need to be able to get to our rainwear.
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She came to us a stray, pregnant, ready to give birth. It was 1990. We fed her outside the house for a few days before she gave birth in our backyard. Little did we know the effect this cat would have on our lives. She was a domestic shorthaired cat. She gave birth to 5 kittens, one was still born and the rest lived, but for how long would depend on our compassion and fortitude. Whether she gave birth on our basement porch or we moved the kittens there from under a bush, I don’t remember. I do remember worrying whether or not Rinny, which was the name we eventually gave her, would be willing to raise these kittens with us there. After a while we began to worry about predators since our porch was open and whether or not Rinny would abandon her kittens, so we decided to move them into our basement.

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