Informal Curriculum

Learning to love books was modeled by many and nurtured by more. The love of books and reading has not always been part of my life. In fact, I hated reading for some time. But as the youngest member of my family, I knew at some point I had to love reading. I remember summer vacations with my family, and each was engrossed in his or her book. I would bounce from one to the other, looking for an easy moment of distraction. My books did not seem to be filled with the same excitement that theirs did. And then the switch was flipped in 3rd grade. A patient teacher found the passion for reading that I still have today. The first time I really got lost in a book, so lost I wanted to enter the book was with Harriet the Spy, I made my family call me Harriet for days. Books now are a huge pleasure in my life, one that I cannot image living without. The smell of old books, the feel of a new book and the secrets that lie within. I’ve travelled many miles with my books, and plan to travel many more. Books keep alive the many other lessons of my life.

Growing up in suburban Boston I don’t even remember the first time I rode the subway, or walked within the tall buildings. The environment was peppered with green spaces and beautiful outdoor spots, but my love of these spaces was not awakened until much later. My family offered me many great opportunities, but sleeping in a tent was not a part of growing up. The first time I had to pitch a tent it was a long and laughter filled process. I had never known how great sleeping outdoors is, or how comfortable camping can be. The wonder of a restful night after a day of activity. The great taste of food after many miles of hiking. All these things have been learned and relearned with many friends as each patiently taught me one more trick to enjoy the outdoors. None of them had to teach me, or show me, how beautiful the world is when taking time to move into more hidden places. I still remember a friend teaching me to tie a bowline, and the first time I tied one in the presence of my father who couldn’t believe this was now a skill I had. Learning the knot when I did came from the need to know and a good teacher.

Although some lessons have a teacher, there have been many in my life that have come to me through experience. Gardening is another love in my life, and my education as a gardener is distinctly informal and experiential. Each year provides a new canvas for learning, and new frustrations as weather patterns are not static. The joy of seedlings coming up on my dining room table when the snow is still deep outside. Each afternoon checking to see what has grown. The amazement of sunlight and nutrients and photosynthesis, it works, plants grow. And then the tender transplant to the outdoor world of the garden, hopeful for warm days and nights. Each year my joy is the same as plants grow and produce vegetables and flowers. Each night taking a look to see what has grown. The plants telling me which plot of land meets their needs, and how much water they need. Listening with my eyes to the growth patterns brings me great joy. It is not a lesson than anyone can teach, but one which I will spend a lifetime learning.