I have a very good friend who was a joyous and unrepentant English Major. Lance can read Conrad or Kipling or any of a hundred Masters of the English language and glean subtleties of depth and meaning that are simply lost on us mere arts and education majors. He is one of those rare individuals who carries his education with him in his heart and lives the lessons of his youth to a depth that would make any of his professors proud. His is academic education at its finest. Teac

Of course it's the education that one gets from the varying experiences of life. It is the education that an infant gets when she her fingers tell her that the bars of her crib are hard and her mother is soft. It's the education that a toddler gets when he falls and gets up and re balances himself and tries again and learns to walk. It grows into learning that the neighbor's puppy isn't going to try to eat you when he rushes at you. If you are clever and continue to seek out

I had a great education in high school. Really. I wrote Star Trek stories in Algebra. I began the year in class by actually paying attention and trying to learn, but my mind kept wandering. I realize now that not only was I dyslexic, but my young adolescent brain wasn't developed enough to take in the mathematical concepts that my tired teachers were trying to impart. I gave up. But I was quiet and wrote my stories of the Starship Enterprise. I would have loved to submit thos

he arts and craftsmanship are of high cultural value for a single reason. They inspire. Such inspiration is not an accident; it is the result of yield of the spiritual qualities in the artist or craftsman. That spirit is comprised of the care, verve, and pride of achievement of the individual, qualities wrought by the art, the skill, the demands of materials and process. Art takes on an inspiring quality from the artist. Equally true is that individuals, artists, are imbued w

Bedtime. As I put down my precious child for the night I think, and far too often these days since he joined us in the world, what do I want for the education of my son? For any child? I want my child to walk through life with the confidence that he is a worthy person who can meet challenges. I want him to be able to think for himself, but listen to the ideas of others. I want him to walk tall, with confidence in his body as well as his mind. I want him to earn his living. I

I hear a lot of negativity these days about youth. Lazy. That comes up a lot. Don't want to work. Don't know how to work. Yet I wonder how many of those adults who are so quick with their accusations and judgements have ever taken the time to teach these kids to work. I worked today with kids from Station Maine at a car wash. I found these kids not only willing, but anxious to perform to the highest standards. Standing in the sun for six hours they took pleasure in a job well

If there exists a universal language in the world today I would have to identify it as hard work. Work, the sort that raises a sweat and truly accomplishes something physical brings with it a unique fellowship as shoulder to shoulder you cut the wood, clear the field, plow the land, or clean the house. It is a language that many older people feel is being dropped from the "life curriculum" of the next generation in the face of government regulations, a fast paced society, and

Skill, by its very nature, breeds decisiveness. There is a depth in the human condition that we of the 21st century are losing. It is the joy and fellowship of craftsmanship and hard work. Craftsmanship that is born of physical skill and care. Hard work of the sort that makes you ache and sweat and sleep like the dead at the end of the day. There are those in this country who tell us that this is the work of lesser people. We hire people to do our physical work while we train

Skill, by its very nature, breeds decisiveness. I bought a small crock for sugar a while ago. It was perfect except that it didn't have a lid. I bought it with the idea of making one out of wood. Someday. But I'm only human, so for many weeks the little crock sported a green saucer where it's lid would be if only I could find the time. Or was it the courage? The green saucer, being exactly the wrong size and shape, slipped out of my early morning fingers every day. And every

Skill, by its very nature, breeds decisiveness. I had the privilege yesterday of being near the window on Main Street when I heard the thud. A large boiler of some sort had fallen off the back of the truck which had been hauling it. The driver was alone. I wondered quickly whether I should go down to help, but even two of us could never lift a chunk of iron so large. So I watched. The driver hesitated not for a moment. Moving swiftly he reached in the back of the truck for a

We had a sledding party in Station Maine today. It was a snap decision that we had scheduled months ago. Really. I had been promising the kids this party for weeks. A day of just play in the snow. So, here it was, a Saturday, sparkling and winter warm, right after a solid eight inches of new snow. And here are we with our facility conveniently located right next to the park with the best sledding in the city. It doesn't get any better. Parties with Station Maine are amazingly

Doing can be a threat. After all, it's not until you try something that you actually find out how bad you are at it. Skills take time to learn. I mean, you can tell the world, and yourself, that if only you had the time you could make beautiful (fill in the blank), run a marathon, cook like Julia Child, etc. But until you get out there and actually do something you'll never really know whether you can do it or not. Your life remains vicarious. Call in a professional. Get an "

Station Maine’s racing season got off to a rocky start this year. Only four of the nine rowers who we expected to race with the Seals actually showed up. Then another accident delayed our training season by three weeks. In fact our first real race on North Haven caught us adding Juniors to fill the boat and racing with no more training and conditioning than our summer season had provided. And those Island kids on Vinalhaven and North Haven are HUGE. In a fair race, which look

It’s become pretty well known by now that you can always find the Station Maine kids where the work’s being done. Look for the boat that needs bailed, the trash that needs emptied, the gear that needs carried. There’s Station Maine’s crew, hands out of their pockets, on deck, doing what needs to be done. I noticed it particularly when, just as breakfast was served, one of the coaches cried “can I have some help moving the boat.” It was the Station Maine crew who instantly lef

It was a great moment for Cameron. He completed ten “man’s” push-ups. Cameron had come to rowing from soccer. He was a good athlete. He could run most of us into the ground as we ran our after-rowing laps. But rowing takes a great deal of upper body strength for which soccer had not prepared him. The ten push-ups we all did at the end of practice were hard for him. We were all learning new things, stretching new boundaries in our lives mentally as well as physically. Cameron’

The island of Vinalhaven has three new wind turbines. They have chosen as a community to be independent of the fossil driven power of the mainland. They have chosen the freedom of the plentiful wind that blows over their island from all directions. On a clear day we on the mainland fourteen miles away can see their turbines churning. Most nights we can see the three red lights that warn aviators of their presence and act as a new navigation guide to sailors. Some find these p

I had the privilege once of interviewing the then editor of the New York based magazine Dance Pages. This amazing man had worked his way up from dancing on the streets to dancing in some of New York's finest companies. Although he had much to say about dance and the phrasing of movement my defining moment came after the interview proper when I asked in my usual subtle manner "What's a nice Jewish boy like you doing tap dancing on the streets begging for pennies when your pare

We saw something wonderful in Juniors Rowing Camp. We saw a seagull eating a fish. Just eating. The fish was all of three pounds. There were no other seagulls to be seen. Nobody to fight with this bird over his feast. Nobody flying, diving, tormenting him. Just the seagull and the fish. And us, watching from the bridge. We watched for easily ten minutes. Water flowing over the stones of a quasi-dam carried the fish away for a time between the smooth stones. The seagull found

Over dinner with a friend yesterday, I mentioned by way of conversation that Rockland Middle School eighth graders are getting Social Studies credit by rowing once a week with Station Maine. My friend went silent for a moment, far too polite to nay-say this project, far too open minded to reject it, yet troubled. Finally he agreed that of course Social Studies could be taught on the water. He proceeded to lecture me on all the important things I must teach the kids. About how

I learned something about teaching today. It was the end of a really good row, one of the pretty days when the sea sparkled and everyone on board had a chance to cox, to lead, to stretch, and to grow. It was time to put the gig to bed and lash the oars. Ours is a simple figure eight lashing finished off with a double half hitch. Easy to anyone who knows how, significantly more challenging for those who don’t. I was facing a crew of the latter. As I was demonstrating I noticed