Now on to 2021 Labyrinth Walks!
Chronologically I trace the year in different labyrinths.
Chronologically I trace the year in different labyrinths.
I’m curious what happened to the 2020 labyrinths blog! While I mainly walked the Phoenix Harmony Labyrinth in our yard, I know I walked other labyrinths. Edith Starr Chase’s lovely one at Wickiup Hill on a magical Winter Solstice evening. The comforting labyrinth at New Bo District. And, early in the season, the Westminster Presbyterian Church of Waterloo, IA, labyrinth. Well, it will show up. Meanwhile, here is a look back anyway.
I’ll just share again.
“It’s a monster!” Payton yelled out! His fishing pole, made for a child to catch tiny fish, bent in a 180-degree arch. Somehow, amazingly, he guided the monster close enough that I could grab its lower jaw. Seconds later it was in the boat.
Wow! It was a monster. 5.1 pounds is a big Largemouth bass. After carefully removing the hook, we slid her back into the water. The fish finned away, yet the memory will linger for a lifetime.
We’ve known 10-year-old Payton and his family for several years. His parents don’t fish and they want him to develop a wide range of interests. I, Rich have fished for most of my 72 years and offered to take him to a local pond. That was in the spring. We’ve since floated in my tiny row pram several times.
Mentoring. I thought I’d teach him how to fish. I sort of succeeded. At least by these skills he’s learned:
What I didn’t realize before we started fishing was what I’d learn, including the patience needed to untangle snarls of line. I also learned some new easy-to-tie knots so I could show Payton. And, we had the chance to talk about conservation as we got to know each other.
Mentoring. It’s fun. Fishing has been our activity but an adult mentor can spark a kid’s interest in all sorts of activities, ranging from playing golf to fixing engines. It’s rewarding to share a hobby with a youngster…..and initiate a lifelong passion.
Just before darkness, cold, and snow appeared last December we decided to try a new winter travel adventure. We purchased a “Great Course” called the Ancient Civilizations of North America that took us on a virtual trek across North America over a 10,000 year plus time.
The course contained 24 lectures on a CD with a paper book paralleling each class.
A few evenings a week we’d sit by our fireplace and enjoy a 30-minute lecture. Our professor was Dr. Edwin Barnhart, Director of the Maya Exploration Center. He’s also a Fellow of the Explorers Club and has traveled extensively. His knowledge of ancient cultures is extraordinary and his delivery impressive. As we watched him on our television it was as if he was speaking directly to us.
His course started with archeological terms and the first people known to cross the Bering Land Bridge and enter our continent in pursuit of mammoths and other gigantic now-extinct animals. Later lectures brought us forward in time to Native Americans along the East Coast just before Europeans arrived.
During the class, we “visited” such fascinating places as Chaco Canyon, Cahokia, Meadowcroft Rockshelter, and many others.
Shortly after finishing his course, we had a delightful phone conversation with Dr. Barnhart. He lives in Austin, Texas, and was attempting to replace a water line that froze and bust in the late winter freeze that hit the Lone Star State and other southern states. Curious, we asked him a number of questions about archeology and how the Great Course we took was so effectively presented. Here were some of our questions and his responses:
We thank Dr. Barnhart for his vast knowledge and ability to communicate it. We will take future Great Courses. They range from lifestyle topics to learning advanced calculus to European history and music. For information go to www.thegreatcourses.com.
Author note: We purchased and reviewed the Great Course on our own with no special consideration given to us.
In spite of the difficulties associated with 2020, including state mandates limiting travel and gatherings, it’s brought us both joy and wonder. Who would have guessed:
We hope you too discover treasures of hidden delights in these challenging days—enough to abundantly water the new year with promise, advancement, and fruition.
Authors’ Note: Below are replies from folks who attended country schools. Some stories originally appeared in the Cedar Rapids Gazette.
“Many older people have fond memories of attending the typical one-room school. The image is quintessential often with a painting of George Washington and Abraham Lincoln up front, a row of wooden desks, a potbelly stove in the back, and a privy or two outside. Although the facilities were humble, memories linger in the minds of older people who launched their learning careers in a tiny school.
“I remember the Veteran’s Day Blizzard of 1940. It was a beautiful morning but clouds moved in and soon the wind howled outside Flanagan School. We had a car by then, but Flanagan School was on a dirt road. Dad thought the car would founder, but that the horses might get through,” said John Regan who attended the one-room school between Holy Cross and Rickardsville in Dubuque County.
““My teacher was Miss Regan, Dad’s cousin. She was wonderful and in that small building I learned education basics,” continued Regan. He went on to serve a successful hitch in the Army, repaired typewriters in New York City, and emerged as a dealer of John Deere equipment in Newton, NJ, and ended up as an executive VP. He now lives in a New Jersey senior residence but often reminisces about his Iowa childhood.
“Idahoan, Bob Pratt, Rich Patterson’s former college roommate, drawled, “I didn’t go to a one-room school. Mine was a two-roomer.” He added, “Grades one through four were in one room and five through eight in the other.” His school was in remote Idaho and had only three employees: two teachers and a person who was both cook and custodian. After eighth grade, Pratt attended a tiny high school. After earning his teacher’s certificate, he devoted a career to teaching practical farming and mechanic skills in equally tiny schools in rural Idaho.
“Both Iowa native Regan and Idahoan Pratt enthusiastically agreed, “The education I received in tiny schools was superb. Maybe better than I’d have had in a big school. My classmates and I were well prepared for college and successful careers in many areas.” Pratt continued, “I taught in high schools with just a few students in each graduating class, but they went on to great success. One is a cardiac surgeon. Another is a skilled cabinet maker. It’s the quality of the teachers and the cooperation of parents that make students excel, not the size of the school,” he emphasized.
“Friends we know in the Cedar Rapids, Iowa, area share similar stories, emphasizing that one-room school education worked for them. The side stories add richness to their experiences. One friend recalled her mother getting a piggyback ride to school after losing her boots in the mud. Pam Tegler Geraghty, a retired special education teacher in Cedar Rapids admits to being a “holy terror!” as a kid at the Lamont, IA, school in the mid-1950s. Slopping in the creek on the way home and locking a classmate in the outhouse among her antics.
“Pat Maas a retired teacher and health secretary at Grantwood Elementary in Cedar Rapids, remembers the students running outside to see an airplane overhead in the 1930s, back when planes were new.”
If other readers have other stories of one-room school experiences, we invite you to share them so we can appropriately add to them. Learn more about country schools in Iowa and across the nation.