Hello Friends and Gorge Neighbors,
Teachers.
The sale of the Gas Station property to the Mosier Charter School brought them back into memory.
Mrs. Applebee. First grade. She put me in the corner for interrupting class once too often. If that wasn’t bad enough, on my next offense I was put in the hallway. It was nice of her to provide a chair for me to sit in. But that masking tape on my mouth was very humiliating when the other kids filed by for lunch break. My brother, four years older, never hooted so loud.
Mrs. English. Second grade. Her method for my dealing with my motor mouth was to yank hard on both my pig tails.
Miss East. Third grade. I had my first crush. On David Mourning. We passed notes. The teacher caught us. She smiled. Then she gave us the look. We loved her. And she loved us. So much so that when she became Mrs. Rucker the next year she invited our entire class to the wedding.
Fast forward. Tenth grade. History class. Oh I loved history. But these were my rebel years. So I played hooky a lot. The teacher would acknowledge out loud to the class how many days I missed. Reach a certain number of absences and your grade drops. But she knew I would play it right to the edge without stepping over. I liked A’s and was determined to get one in history especially.
College. Freshman year. Russell Cresimanno. Sociology class. Russell changed the way I looked at the world. He defied the administration and refused to give traditional tests for grades. Instead, our homework, every day, was to write “I learned” statements. To think about our experience. To integrate the teachings into real life. I remember him with great respect and fondness.
Dick Harrington. English class. I hated writing. I could speak what I wanted to say but couldn’t put it to paper. I lacked confidence. My boyfriend was a brilliant writer. I compared myself to him. I handed in my first assignment knowing it was a mess. Dick handed it back to me with an A minus circled at the top of the page. And he said these words, “this has the makings of an A paper”. Then he coached me on that one composition until it became worthy of the grade. He changed my life. And endeared me to him forever.
Denise Lynn and Susan Haifleigh, my Interior Alignment and Feng Shui teachers have helped me get out of my own way. Less planning and thinking. More quiet and listening. The heart knows.
Every encounter is an opportunity to learn. Sometimes I am so full on with what must be done that don’t have the bandwidth to pay as close attention as I’d like. And I am reminded of a lesson from a meditation conference for business leaders, “It’s not about just getting things done; it’s about doing it with love”.
As the Mosier School embarks on a $2m fund raising campaign so they can continue to “teach their children well”, I am thankful to be occupying The Station. Now that I know I’m staying for a good while, you’ll see some sweet enhancements to display your consignment pieces after the first of the year. And a more welcoming outdoor area. Simple stuff. Mostly recycled and locally built stuff. Stuff I think you’ll appreciate.
For up to date pictures of what’s rolled in, click on http://thedwellingstation.com/
And feel free to drive on over with your cool furnishings ready to find a new home and get a sweet holiday check in the mail.
Open Weekends, SATURDAY AND SUNDAY 10 – 4. (Closing at 3pm this SUNDAY)
Happy Dwelling,
Christina