Best class

I took on a second class this summer for doctoral students. Focused on the qualitative research methodology, narrative analysis, the class has 7 students: 6 doctoral folks and 1 Educational Specialist (Ed.S., formerly knows as a CAS). Our class in June required pairs of students to introduce 2 chapters from our class text, aptly titled, Narrative Analysis. 

My student-colleagues knocked the socks off their workshops. Timely, thoughtful, interesting, and specific, each workshop offered information and activities that had us discussing and writing, thinking and questioning. I admired their work. This kind of seminar happens because of the students' knowledge and experiences, and the teachers they've enjoyed in the past. I could tell from their approaches that my friend Ken Martin had a profound influence on their work. I'm reminded of the following quotation:

"If I have seen further than others, it is by standing upon the shoulders of giants." 

––Isaac Newton

Often at the beginning of the semester, I ask my 4th-year students to write about the teachers who have influenced them. I take on the assignment, too. I list my mother, who taught homebound handicapped kids and substitute taught; I write about Catherine Puiia who I took creative writing with as a junior or senior in high school. She said after reading one of my projects, "You could be a professional writer some day, Richard."

I include my Bread Loaf School of English Teachers Dixie Goswami and James Britton (whose words in class one day changed my teaching practice: "Being told is the opposite of finding out"). And, of course, there's Michael Armstrong, whom I called The Wild Count, a radical educator if there ever was one. Michael's analysis of my analyses also changed the way I respond to student writing. I had the great good fortune to study with him at Lincoln College, Oxford, in 1992.

After class, I chatted with the custodian for my floor in Shibles. He told me about riding his motorcycle at the night the day before as he looked at the stars. I worried aloud about the deer and moose darting into the roads to escape the horse flies, mosquitoes, and black flies. "Well," he said, "it's worth it." To which I said, "I guess everything in life is a trade off." He nodded and off I went to drive the 2:20 home.

In the humongous parking lot just beyond my building, I looked out to see my lone car.

Last Car at Summer School, June 2019, UMaine