Auggie and I stood huddled in anticipation around a computer monitor at the photo shop in Big Sky, Montana. Resort photographers had rotated taking pictures on different ski runs for tourists to later view and purchase. I grinned proudly at the shots of my little kindergarten skier. His bright blue jacket contrasting against the white snow and picturesque Rocky Mountains behind as he plowed bravely down the hill.
Next came shots of my husband, showing off his easy lifelong skier stance, and salt-and-pepper vacation beard in full mountain appropriateness.
And then there’s me. Frumpy coat pockets bulging with kids snacks and extra layers, I am pain-grimacing in every shot the photographer caught. Needless to say I didn’t purchase any of the last few shots.
There’s nothing like being a bit out of shape and a good few pounds up to make you feel your age. And although we had a wonderful trip this past weekend and feel so fortunate to have been able to take it, I’ve never felt more old. And I know, I know… I’m certainly not elderly… but it hit me that my confident risk-taking skiing years are probably well behind me.
It’s true the last few years spent on “Minnesota” ski mountains have altered my perception, but an “easy” green hill in Big Sky left me panicked for most of the ride down. A few times on the first day I hit a couple patches of ice early on the top of a run. It was enough to slow my pace, forcing every muscle in my thighs and hips to tense as I tried to remain in control. The result made my legs feel like rubber the second and third day. I watched in envy as my children (yes, even the six-year-old) easily out-skied me and listened half in anxiety and half joy as my thirteen-year-old recounted her dare-devil shenanigans from the day.
One of the last afternoons I sat by the fire in the hotel common area. Nursing my sore everything with an aprés ski glass of cabernet, I eavesdropped on an older man talking on his phone from a bench in front of the fire. I listened in awe as he described his day of skiing- he had to be well over 70. I smiled as he rambled on to describe a brisket he cooked and then a long story about a truck. Empty wine glass in one hand and book in the other, I pushed my aching body up from the cozy armchair. As I turned I realized the man wasn’t on the phone at all… just sitting by himself near the hearth, chatting on about the day.
Not one person in that hotel common room batted an eye at the older man’s self conversation, but I’m quite hopeful that had it been me, there would be concern.
I chuckled and limped my forty-something self back to my room.
My play-based post last week led my interests directly into this one! Project Based Learning is packed with information on how to start PBL in a classroom. I particularly like the last section on how to “flip” your current instruction so it’s inquiry based. (For example- instead of saying, “Today we are going to learn about adjectives” to start a lesson, a teacher might say, “Take a look at this sentence. Grab some colors- let’s color code the different parts. What do you notice about these words?”) A very specific and current read (2021).
Teaching the Good Stuff 