Micro Entrepreneurism, Simple Living & Art
The word of the morning was “decadent.” I cooked, I painted, I made clothes. The word for the afternoon can only be “discovery.” I wore my freshly minted pants, I donned ridiculous feather earrings, and I took myself on a date. Somewhere between the attention demanding curvy mountain road and the loud 80s music blasting from the not so clear radio station, my story hit me upside the head. I mean, it literally smacked me, and said, “what took you so long?” To which I answered, out loud, “I have no freaking idea!”
Seriously. That’s really how it happened.
My story isn’t just my story. It’s the story of my mother and I and RAGGEDedge and Floyd and my 27th year.
The first time my mother and I worked together, I was in charge. It was the Summer of 2000, I was just shy of my 17th birthday, and it was the first year I was old enough to be a lead instructor at summer camp. I’d been teaching sailing every summer since I was 13 as an assistant. I happened into the job by accident, before I even really knew how to sail, but it turned out that it was a pretty good gig and I was good at it. I had learned from the best. And from my various teachers, I had it simplified down to three basic principles: kids like to have fun, they like to feel safe, and they like freedom – and the balance of those three things made for a successful class. I was just a big kid with a knack for responsible fun.
Mom decided she wanted in on the fun, so she took the instructor certification class with me that Spring, and signed up to teach the Opti Beginner class with me that Summer. We made an awesome team and she set the bar for every instructor I worked with thereafter. We worked hard to work well together. At first, we had to talk about everything, learn to communicate our expectations for the day and for each other. Every morning we discussed our lesson plan and what we needed to do to pull it off. We were fair to each other, making sure that nobody got the short end of the stick all the time. We owned our screw ups, and made sure we figured out what we would do differently next time. We never chucked each other under the bus in front of the boss or the parents. We were a team. What stands out the most for me that Summer, was how little respect I got from the parents of our campers. When issues came up, time and again, they would seek out my mom or the head instructor, instead of first coming directly to me.
(This is the first post of The Renegade Ladies Series: the story of my mother and I and RAGGEDedge and Floyd and my 27th year.)