A letter written to Ron in 2016. The photo does not show in the post.
September 2, 2016
Dear Ron,
I hope this letter finds you well. I think you know that my father is still with us and living with Alan and me and although he misses his old friends, he is enjoying ‘life on the farm’. But this letter isn’t about him. It’s about me. (And you!)
Recently, after many years teaching, I have taken on the position of principal of the small public K-8 school in Falls Village, CT. This is a school I have loved for a long time. It is where Alan worked when we first met, it is where both Hannah and Molly attended K-8, and it is right down the road from where we live and have a small farm, next to the Housatonic River and a stone's throw from the Appalachian Trail. With the support of the faculty and staff we have hired a consultant to act as our guide as we embark on an initiative to become an Expeditionary Learning School. If you are not familiar with Expeditionary Learning I think you will find this interesting. https://eleducation.org/resources/design-principles It began as a collaborative conversation between The Harvard School of Education and Outward Bound, and embodies everything I have strived for in all my years in education since I graduated from college in 1979.
As I was thinking about this recently, I considered the trajectory of my life and how I came to be leading the rethinking of how we teach (no small task), and I traced my path backwards and landed in Center Conway on the lake. I don’t know how many summers we came to Lake Conway but it seemed like a lot. Our last trip as I was growing up was when I was 15. My memories include: the dirt road, the sign to honk the horn, the outhouse (which I always used and never objected to), the water pump with the metal cup, Jockey Cap, Black Cap, Pleasant Mt, the Cog Railway, Diana’s Bath, jumping from what seemed like a hundred feet high into Emerald Pool, signing and dating shelf fungi to commemorate our adventures, the hammock, blueberry picking, sleeping in a tent, canoeing, water skiing, sailing, badger (I hated that), swimming to the island, and so many water games–jousting, gunwaling, diving contests off the float, relay races with big wet clothes, swamping canoes–and then bathing in the lake with soap in the morning and skinny dipping at night, box hockey, tetherball, egg tossing and cake eating contests …
Here is a picture of me on Mt Chocorua when I think I was 8 or 9.
That’s me in the middle (why isn’t Lisa with us?) and I am freezing and miserable. But my memory of that day is fond because it included you playing games with us the whole way up, and singing silly songs.
And that is where it all began for me–my love of spontaneous and organized fun on the water and in the woods.
You showed me how to do that.
In college I majored in Outdoor Leadership. In the summers I guided wilderness trips in Maine, and after I graduated I worked at an environmental education center in Texas and led adaptive outward bound courses for youth at risk in CT. My master’s degree was in special education so I could bring adventure programming into the schools. In my personal and professional life I have always been the initiator and the organizer and I am always reminded of you.
And then our own kids–Hannah and Molly–grew up canoeing and climbing mountains and signing shelf fungi (we have a whole collection in our barn!) and singing songs and playing those same games. And thanks to you, and my parents, they also grew up with summers on Lake Conway, building their own memories which have impacted their choices of how they live and what they do.
I want you to know Ron, that you have loomed large in my life and along with my parents and my 7th grade science teacher, you have had a tremendous influence in shaping who I am and what I do.
With great fondness, love and gratitude,
Jenny Law
September 2, 2016
Dear Ron,
I hope this letter finds you well. I think you know that my father is still with us and living with Alan and me and although he misses his old friends, he is enjoying ‘life on the farm’. But this letter isn’t about him. It’s about me. (And you!)
Recently, after many years teaching, I have taken on the position of principal of the small public K-8 school in Falls Village, CT. This is a school I have loved for a long time. It is where Alan worked when we first met, it is where both Hannah and Molly attended K-8, and it is right down the road from where we live and have a small farm, next to the Housatonic River and a stone's throw from the Appalachian Trail. With the support of the faculty and staff we have hired a consultant to act as our guide as we embark on an initiative to become an Expeditionary Learning School. If you are not familiar with Expeditionary Learning I think you will find this interesting. https://eleducation.org/resources/design-principles It began as a collaborative conversation between The Harvard School of Education and Outward Bound, and embodies everything I have strived for in all my years in education since I graduated from college in 1979.
As I was thinking about this recently, I considered the trajectory of my life and how I came to be leading the rethinking of how we teach (no small task), and I traced my path backwards and landed in Center Conway on the lake. I don’t know how many summers we came to Lake Conway but it seemed like a lot. Our last trip as I was growing up was when I was 15. My memories include: the dirt road, the sign to honk the horn, the outhouse (which I always used and never objected to), the water pump with the metal cup, Jockey Cap, Black Cap, Pleasant Mt, the Cog Railway, Diana’s Bath, jumping from what seemed like a hundred feet high into Emerald Pool, signing and dating shelf fungi to commemorate our adventures, the hammock, blueberry picking, sleeping in a tent, canoeing, water skiing, sailing, badger (I hated that), swimming to the island, and so many water games–jousting, gunwaling, diving contests off the float, relay races with big wet clothes, swamping canoes–and then bathing in the lake with soap in the morning and skinny dipping at night, box hockey, tetherball, egg tossing and cake eating contests …
Here is a picture of me on Mt Chocorua when I think I was 8 or 9.
That’s me in the middle (why isn’t Lisa with us?) and I am freezing and miserable. But my memory of that day is fond because it included you playing games with us the whole way up, and singing silly songs.
And that is where it all began for me–my love of spontaneous and organized fun on the water and in the woods.
You showed me how to do that.
In college I majored in Outdoor Leadership. In the summers I guided wilderness trips in Maine, and after I graduated I worked at an environmental education center in Texas and led adaptive outward bound courses for youth at risk in CT. My master’s degree was in special education so I could bring adventure programming into the schools. In my personal and professional life I have always been the initiator and the organizer and I am always reminded of you.
And then our own kids–Hannah and Molly–grew up canoeing and climbing mountains and signing shelf fungi (we have a whole collection in our barn!) and singing songs and playing those same games. And thanks to you, and my parents, they also grew up with summers on Lake Conway, building their own memories which have impacted their choices of how they live and what they do.
I want you to know Ron, that you have loomed large in my life and along with my parents and my 7th grade science teacher, you have had a tremendous influence in shaping who I am and what I do.
With great fondness, love and gratitude,
Jenny Law