Kayak Shenanigans

I knew it was over before I even went under. The kayak had turned backwards, a rock leapt up behind me from beneath the white water, and I gave in. I think I heard the river gods laugh as I got a noseful of water. To tell you the truth, I was laughing too. What business did I have in a kayak anyway?

The scene was the Nantahala River in North Carolina. The cast of characters? About 70 ninth graders from Hammond School, where I teach 9th grade. I was roped into this unlikely adventure by a sense of professional duty. Actually, I have always liked chaperoning field trips - it's the "adventure" part that got me into trouble this time. I prefer paved cities, show tickets, fine restaurants, and other low impact activities that do not require me to strap myself into a narrow tube designed for speed, flips, and rock collisions. But I do like the water, and I figured a minor case of terror shouldn't prevent me from joining in on the "fun."

The first day was spent on the lake learning how to hang upside-down in said kayak, how to exit said kayak for dear life, and how to regain one's breath in very very very cold cold water. Surrounded by 14-year-olds who were having no trouble conquering this task, I tried to act like an adult and follow instructions. I did it, and it was worth it. Plus, I figured that if I did not push through a little personal fear on the water, I'd have no right to ask my students to push through their fear of published writing, public speaking, or test taking. Life gives us all challenges, some of them requiring helmets.

The next day was on the river, and my goal was clear: enjoy the scenery, enjoy the kids, and stay upright. Two out of three ain't bad, as they say. It really was inevitable. Friends and family are not shocked. By the time the kayak had hit 90 degrees, I'd pulled the loop and pushed my body into the river. Honestly, it wasn't that scary, and I'm a decent swimmer. The falling out was relatively fun; it was the shockingly cold water that gave me the trouble, constricting my lungs and making me gasp for breath and look altogether pathetic as I grabbed ahold of our guide's kayak and got escorted to the shore like the out-of-shape school marm I am. I decided to take it as a wet badge of courage, and good storytelling for my 8-year-old. I find that if you can tell a story just right, you can reel in a little bit of lost dignity with a cleverly wrought phrase or two. How did I do?

South Carolina on My Mind

We are South Carolinians again. An odd day to announce this, considering everyone is currently reluctant to admit any connection with the state that gave us Joe Wilson's rude Congressional outburst and that guy who apparently had sex with his horse.

So to break the bad spell, I offer a little ode to Carolina. I love it here. True, we produce teen beauty queens who can barely speak, but I don't blame the state. Not even the state schools. I could argue the point with fancy rhetoric, but I'm not in the mood. The human race is responsible for the Wilsons, the illiterates, the Sanfords, the perverts. We're all a mess.

But here, at home again in the South, I'm back in the midst of some beautiful things. I drink sweet tea everyday. The fish and the chicken are fried. Strangers and professionals greet me with a drawl and a joke. The in-laws are nearby, and they have a pool. The sun shines almost all the time. Temperatures have dropped to the high 70's, and sitting outside is a joy. Everywhere I go, there are green lawns, palmetto trees, and crepe myrtles that never lose their pink. Architecture is red brick, archways, white columns, and black wrought iron. I love archways and iron! Homes are more affordable here and, hence, we live in a lovely neighborhood with winding roads, lots of trees, and adorable houses. I teach at a private school in Columbia, where polite and neatly dressed teenagers say "yes ma'am." My two best friends in the world live five minutes away. Crickets chirp when the sun goes down.

I'm OK with sharing Carolina with a handful of famous idiots, so long as the beauty doesn't fade and the tea stays sweet.