Welcome to club zero

This is one club I'm happy to be a member of!

Adventure Caving, or how I earned my inheritance

I was introduced to caving by Jay Alton when we both taught school in Paradise, Michigan. I know what you're thinking, caving in Michigan? Yes, there are caves, and the Hendrie River Water Cave was about 30 miles from where I lived. It is Michigan’s longest known cave, with about 1,500 feet of mostly high, narrow passages and a stream running along the floor. The cave is a karst formation in an abandoned limestone quarry.

Jay was an environmentalist and adamant that above all else, we had to respect the cave. That meant, not damaging or defacing the cave, not leaving anything behind, and not taking anything away.

I made 5 or 10 trips to the cave and was comfortable exploring it. My mom was visiting and she complained how I never took her caving, so off we went.

The cave was formed by erosion that started in limestone cracks. In many places, its shape is like a pyramid, getting wider as it gets deeper. A few passages are very tight and you have to crawl on your belly to get through. There is a river running along the floor of the cave, so you know you're going to get wet.

There were three explorers in the cave that day, my mom, my daughter, and myself. Our goal was to see the underground waterfall. To get to the waterfall, you have to crawl through a 20 foot long "tube" that we called the birthing canal. It's about 3 feet tall, round in shape, and littered with sharp pieces of rock covered by water from the underground river.

I led the group that day and was waiting for mom at the end of the birthing canal. She was having trouble, so I went back to help. I didn't know it at the time, but she was at her limit. She was agitated, and struggling to carry a small black rock while crawling on her hands and knees in the icy cold water. I tried to placate her, and told her to drop the rock because she could pick it up again when we came back through the canal.

I knew mom was afraid of snakes, but I didn't know she was claustrophobic. Panic set in and she cut loose.

"YOU MEAN I HAVE TO COME BACK THROUGH THIS DAMNED THING AGAIN?  I THOUGHT WE WERE ALMOST DONE!"

Just before mom stopped making forward progress, I told her that we were 'almost there'.  She thought we were almost at the exit. She didn't know that the exit to the cave was the same place we entered, ~800 feet behind us.

In her panicked state she called me two names I'll always remember. I've been called those names more than once, but this is the only instance I can clearly recall.

What can you say if your mother calls you an SOB? What if she calls you a 7 letter name that starts with B and questions your lineage?  You can't very well argue with her, can you?

Mom never did see the waterfall that day, nor did she see the irony of calling me an SOB. Every time we talk about her cave adventure, she shows me the small black rock on her fireplace mantel that represents my inheritance.

I apologized to Jay and to the cave for mom taking the rock. That was the first time I saw anyone break Jay's rule. I can't remember taking any photos or video of my cave adventures, so it was a pleasant surprise to find this youtube video.  http://youtu.be/glQcUkV48_s

What is the moral of this story? You decide:

1. All's well that ends well.

2. Go ahead and call me an SOB if you like, it's not like I'm going to argue with you.

3. The best adventures cannot be planned in advance.

Post your choice in comments.

My first teaching job - an early adventure

My first paid teaching job was while I was still an undergrad. It was 1986 and I taught a computer programming class in PASCAL for Jackson Community College in Michigan. It was an unusual job because the class was held once a week, Saturday mornings, inside the only maximum security women's prison in the state of Michigan.

When I first heard about the job, I thought to myself "this sounds like an adventure", and it was. On my first visit to the prison, they searched me and my car before I was allowed on the grounds. Then I had to sit through a 4 hour orientation on the does and don'ts of teaching a class at the prison. I bristled a bit when they warned me that I would be subject to a random body cavity search and that they could and would not guarantee my safety at any time.

The first day of class was the most interesting. I showed up on time and had my person and belongings searched thoroughly. As I walked across the prison campus (I think that's what it's called) I saw small groups of inmates who seemed to all mimic the same behavior. As they passed me, they'd giggle to each other and some would wink at me.

When I got to the school building a guard escorted me to my classroom where my students were waiting. He closed the door and locked it from the outside. The door had a double deadbolt arrangement so it required a key to unlock it from the inside. I didn't have a key, nobody told me I'd be locked inside too. I looked out the security glass in the door, hoping to see my guard "guarding" me from the outside, but he was nowhere to be seen. It made me a little more comfortable when I'd see a guard peek through the door once an hour or so.

I really didn't know what a classroom full of maximum security prisoners looked like, so I didn't know what to expect. A few looked hard core, and they behaved that way. I remember them talking about how they wanted to go up and down their row of cells and "cut dem bitches heads right off." Two of them were very easy on the eyes, which really made me nervous and curious. There was one elderly lady who looked exactly like my best friend's grandma. I imagined her bringing a plate of hot cookies to class someday. The rest could have been PTA moms.

I started the class with a review of the syllabus and then went around for introductions. Before we started introductions, I made a very clear, blanket statement that I was not judgmental and that it didn't matter to me why they were here, nor did it matter to me whether they were guilty or not. I told them in jest, that I was only concerned about that if indeed they were in jail for doing something to a college instructor. I explicitly told all 20 ladies that I DID NOT want to know why they were in prison because it would be better for me.

As we made our introductions, I asked each lady what their college goals were and why they were taking my class. I thought to myself that there must be a lot of peer pressure here because nearly every one of them said that taking my Saturday morning class was a whole lot better than working in the factory making license plate expiration stickers. In the end, I decided they were telling the truth.

There was huge attrition in the class and by the time 16 weeks had passed, only 6 students remained. I gave them all passing grades despite the fact that their work was crap. I must have done that out of embarrassment or shame, thinking that it if I was a better teacher, not so many of them would have dropped out.

As I write this today, I still wonder what they did to get locked up.

Google+ re-connecting friends

If you ever had a Myspace account, then Tom Anderson was your friend. He was the first person to greet me when I signed up and he was always there, smiling, looking over his shoulder, wearing his t-shirt, in front of the white board.

Tom, I'm glad to see you again. Let's stay in touch, we've let too much time come between us. Click here to reconnect with Tom on Google+

My definition of adventure

First, I'll tell you what adventure isn't.

Adventure isn't dangerous
I've always been a risk taker, but I limit myself to calculated risks. I'm 53 years old and have never broken a bone. The thought of breaking a bone scares the heck out of me, so I tend to be careful when taking risks. Classic example: riding motorcycles (future blog post)

Adventure isn't a death wish
Too many people think of adventure as doing something daring and risky or that adventure is something you have to travel to do. WRONG. Adventure is my lifestyle. I wake up every day looking forward to my next adventure and dread the thought of going to bed without having had one.

What is adventure? It's my lifestyle.

When I taught school in Paradise, Michigan (yes Virginia, there really is a town named Paradise), I was introduced to the Bay Area Adventure School in Traverse City. My first visit was with a friend and teaching colleague named Jay Alton. I felt such a rush and felt so alive that day on the ropes course.

I learned that the ropes course is a metaphor for life. On the ropes course you always wear safety equipment that includes a climbing harness, double belay ropes, and a helmet - this is your "support system". In real life, you have an equally effective support system by way of your family, friends, colleagues and peers.

The first time I tried to jump into a cargo net from a wooden platform while I was 30 feet in the air, I was scared to death. They were only 6 feet apart, but that didn't matter. I was wearing my climbing harness, secured to a 1/2 inch steel cable above me by two industrial strength belay ropes, and in my logical, rational, problem solving mind, I was absolutely positive that there was no way that I could fall to the ground.

Even if I didn't land in the cargo net (which I probably could just have fallen into), I would have simply been left hanging from above in my harness and could have easily shimmied back to the wall or net, depending on which I was closest to. Before we went up in the air, we even practiced falling off a 3 foot tall platform with our harness and gear on so we would know what it felt like to be caught by your safety gear.

My knees were knocking. My heart was pounding. Everyone was watching. I couldn't make my body do it. My innate self preservation instincts were preventing my body from doing what my brain was telling it to. I began to question myself and wondered just who or what was controlling my body.

Then, 30 feet below me, I could hear Jay telling me that I really could do it. I heard my wife and kids encouraging me. I took deep breaths, closed my eyes, and suddenly realized a truth that has stayed with me since. The ability to control my body was inside me, all I had to do was reach out and grab it. I call this the "it's all between your ears" effect.

Jay told me that this was the first time he had seen this side of me. I laughed and asked if I could do it again.

I was hooked. I was an adventure junkie. It didn't matter what it took, I had to have more. I took the training and got certified so I could share this experience with as many people as I could.

I started by taking students from my school and branched out to facilitating groups from neighboring school districts. I led activities for the NCAA champion hockey team at LSSU. These guys were world class athletes, but they still found ways to work together better by strengthening the trust between them. I also worked numerous corporate training events in Michigan as well.

The biggest eye opener was when we facilitated a group of incarcerated teens, most of them from inner city Detroit. I was a little scared at first, but gave it a try. The kids showed up on a prison bus wearing shackles, so they couldn't kill each other. We didn't know this at the time, but the person who selected the participants really wanted to see us fail so they sent us a 50/50 mix of rival gangs. There were as many armed staff as kids. We got off to a rocky start but by mid-afternoon they had become one. No one ever gave these kids an opportunity like this. They never knew the power hidden inside. They went back to jail higher than a kite that night, but I felt even higher because I facilitated what they discovered inside themselves.

Phew, all of this talk of adventure schools and ropes courses has got me wondering if I really shouldn't be seeking out a similar gig here in socal?

If I run short of other adventures, I'll have to look into that.

Training vs Education

I applied for an interesting position as a sales trainer and stopped to reflect for a moment on my philosophy of learning and education. Early in my professional career I was as a math teacher and school administrator, and although I wasn't schooled in the experiential learning model, once I was exposed to it at the Bay Area Adventure School in Traverse City, MI, I felt like I needed a head slap because it was perfectly aligned with my experience as a teacher and learner.

In a very simple way, experiential learning is like a 3 legged stool that you would use to milk a cow. All three components (legs) are required for it to be valid and work.
1. The learner actively participates in the experience
2. The learner reflects on the experience
3. After reflection, the learner changes their behavior (or not)
It is a lifelong iterative process and the person who would normally be considered the teacher, takes on the role of facilitator.

Anyway, that got me to thinking about the connotations of "trainer" vs "teacher" . I remember a mother who took great offense to a course in Driver's Training that was offered at my school. She went to the school board and demanded that the name be changed to Driver's Education because training was what you did with dogs and circus monkeys.

There are some subtle differences between training and education, and in another over-simplification, education is generally thought of as studies done in school, while training involves gaining skills.

Aren't you glad that they only offer sex education in school?

Everything is a Remix

I never realized that Led Zeppelin were samplers. Well done series Kirby.
Everything is a Remix

Domo Arigato Mister Roboto

Thank you very much, Mr. Roboto
Until the day (we) meet again
Thank you very much, Mr. Roboto
I want to know your secret
With apologies to Styx, Kilroy was here, 1983

The robot that I am thanking is the DaVinci and of course, I really should be thanking Dr. Kane first, but that wouldn't make for a very interesting blog title now would it? I'm 3 weeks post op today and my plumbing is working better than anyone expected. The pathology report looks very promising and my fingers are crossed for PSA=0 in 4 weeks.

One size doesn't fit all

I know from personal experience that one size never fits all. It doesn't matter whether the subject is clothing, lifestyles, or cancer treatment choices. 

After I was diagnosed with PCa, I was presented with a dizzying array of options for treatment which included doing nothing at all. As a child of science, I created by chemistry and born by biology, so I approached this the same way I would approach any other problem. 

There is almost always more than one way to solve a problem, the difficult part is choosing the solution that maximizes winning for all stakeholders. In this case, I was the primary stakeholder so my vote counted the most. 

I had favorable biopsy parameters. I read and read and read until I felt that I knew enough. It was a tough and trying time for me and my family.  I took a few months to decide what to do. 

For better or worse, I had my prostate removed. I am at peace with my decision.  I made the right decision for me. The process I used is the process every man should use on that difficult journey to their decision. 

I do not advocate one type of treatment prostate cancers.  One size or one treatment……doesn’t fit all.

Long time no blog?

Time to get started again.