A Steep Learning Curve

It’s Jack’s Wednesday guest post –

For twenty five years I was both a professional educator and a learner.

Lauder College, Dunfermline.

When I undertook teacher training in Glasgow some of our lectures concerned the difference between education and learning. Others encouraged us to examine to whom we were responsible – I was paid by the Scottish Government, most students were teenagers but some were mature. Many attended part-time because they were employees of local businesses. To whom did we owe our responsibility? Government, parents, employers or the students?

I progressed from lowly part-time house painting instructor to head of the construction trades department and, after a hard fought MBA, professor in management studies.

Through all this there was something that became a ‘buzz phrase’ – Life Long Learning.

I was an example because I was sent as part of my 6 year apprenticeship to the local college and found that they also ran evening classes where I finally got the qualifications I’d miserably failed at in school. The Scottish college system was an important second chance and eventually a life-long chance for me.

But – but – –

I realized that learning isn’t confined to the classroom. We all learn from the time we waken until we go back to bed at night. My students were learning in the bus on their way to the college, as they walked up the corridor, in the canteen at lunchtime, at the nightclub in the evening and at the soccer game on Saturday.

I also found that I wasn’t just teaching a curriculum. I was setting an example and being a role model. I remembered, when I was an apprentice and attended the same college, that there was a young new lecturer. I was impressed by him – his knowledge, his skills and even the way he dressed. He was my role model!

It was much same for me at high school – it was the characterful teachers that I learned most from, and not necessarily their particular subject.

So I introduced two exchange programs – one with a college in Denmark and another with a college in Slovakia. Although the official focus was on environmental issues, the real purpose of both was to provide an opportunity for students to experience a completely different culture. The difference in all the participants on their return was remarkable. It most likely changed their lives and was a great example of learning outside the curriculum.

At the same time I was managing a number of experimental environmental education projects funded by the EU and working with partners all over Europe, as well as traveling there with my folk band ‘Heritage’. So my horizons were also widening and my learning continued.

It’s been almost twenty years since I retired from Lauder College but it changed my life in many ways and it still does!

Our Friend Sonja gave us a Mushroom Kit…

Jack loves mushrooms. I don’t mind them one way or the other. Recently our friend Sonja got a BOGO (that’s buy one get one free) deal on an oyster mushroom kit, and offered us one.

The kit arrives….

We know several groups of mushroom hunters. When I mentioned kit mushrooms to our friend Shawn, he said, “That is definitely safest for you and Jack.” Uh, thanks, I think? But fair. Shawn was right when he said, “there are old mushroom hunters, and there are daring mushroom hunters, but there are no old and daring mushroom hunters.”

Sure, but that doesn’t factor in world domination plans. I have read that Ray Bradbury short story about mushrooms, y’all.

The mushroom kit box was blue and about the size of a cinderblock, but not near as heavy. Not at first. I wasn’t eager to get started, but my friend Laura messaged, “You have to let them out. They want out right away.”

Not exactly anxiety-reduction, but perhaps if I treated them kindly, when world domination came, they would be nice to me. Cut an x in the plastic window and water log the brick of spore dust and wait, said the instructions.

Do mushrooms eat your brain first? When would we know?

After three days of watering the spore dust block, tiny little pin-like things appeared. I called then tentacles. Jack called them brainsuckers. We kept watering (perhaps against our better judgment).

Three days of watering was also when we discovered that putting the directions underneath the block was a bad idea. Nothing left but soggy bits of turquoise paper. We were on our own. Fortunately, the Internet is full of advice on kit mushrooms. None of it includes what to do once they take up arms.

Day five, the pins definitely looked like mushrooms, tiny ones with dark brown caps, like a child’s drawing. I looked for faces. When I fired up my laptop, someone had been surfing weapons manufacturers and made a call to a deli.

Day seven, the mushroom hats (okay, caps, they’re officially called) were going from tan to grey, and they looked a lot like sea coral to me–except, grey with white stems and on my kitchen counter.

This is when my friend Shannon said I should the novel Mexican Gothic. I read the synopsis on Goodreads, and yeah, no. Shirley Jackson with mushrooms for Merricat kinda thing going on there.

The day of harvest–or open warfare

We planned to harvest some mushrooms on day eight. That morning, I found a waterlogged copy of The Art of War hidden in the box, and one of the mushrooms snagged my finger. We harvested that afternoon, and ate the first round in full view of the rest of the box. Afterward I said, “That’ll show ’em!”

Jack belched and asked, “What if that was the plan all along? We eat them and they eat us from the inside out?”

If there’s gonna be war, shrooms, bring it. We have forks, frying pans, and garlic. And I’m locking my laptop up at night so you can’t order any more flame throwers.