Sunday, April 11, 2010

Getting the Hang of It

March 5th, 2010

Of the many activities swirling about in week three with MCC, the one containing the most tangible measure of success would be tool sharpening. With so many educational concepts and models for leadership, many of the notches in the ruler of accomplishment are blurred proficiencies to be sensed rather than measured. Therefore, tool sharpening provided a satisfying contrast to much of our work thus far. Clarity as seen in the honed edge of a blade. For several hours yesterday staff scurried about completing various tasks. We are conducting interviews for our summer crews and packing boxes for the daunting task of moving to a new office location. Come afternoon, I took a break from interviews to sharpen pulaskis and axes outside in warm weather teasing of spring. Though often sitting cross-legged with other co-workers wielding files and blades, I found myself alone for some 10 minutes around 3pm. Now, let me pause here to give you a picture of the city blocks surrounding our office. Directly across the street from the backside of the building is a baseball diamond and a field of grass leading to a playground and small amphitheater. Though there is no school in the immediate vicinity, children often come here to play when their education is completed for the day. As I sat in the grass watching flecks of metal collect on my pant leg, an old woman cobbled past with her dog. She gave me a curious look and I was suddenly struck by the absurdity of the image I projected. I offered her a smile that attempted to convey, “Don’t mind me. Just because I am sitting here alone, sharpening this axe in the field next to those children on the swing set does not mean I have any ill intentions.” She smiled back, but I do not think she was completely convinced. I half expected to see a police car casually drive by following this brief interaction. But if it did, I was already back inside.


-Ashley Tendick

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Take nothing for granted. Not one blessed, cool mountain day or one hellish, desert day or one sweaty, stinky, hiking companion. It is all a gift.
—CINDY ROSS, Journey on the Crest, 1987