So, you've arrived at my doorstep obviously wondering who's behind all the literary insanity that comes with traveling, be it round the block or round the globe. That would be me.
My friends call me Sherry, although I'll answer to Sharon, Martina, or Sharon Martina, as well as mom, sis, dear, nana, lady and ma'am. All those options can be very confusing, especially when I'm out in public. From as far as a block away someone can yell mom or nana and I snap to attention, ready with a Kleenex or a $20 bill.
My students used to yell out, "Martina!" as they entered my classroom, and I'd yell back, "Smith," or "What up," or "Trouble." I've finally graduated all that high school nonsense - the cliques, the angst, the homework (yes, this teacher had tons of homework) and the bells. What can I say? I'm a later bloomer! And just for the record, summers were no vacation! Teachers are to coursework what mothers are to housework - their work is never done. I'm certain a few more years living life by the bell and I'd qualify for ding-a-ling status. Besides, Paul, the new kid on the block, kept thanking me for retiring so he could upgrade his part-time teaching position to full-time.
The world is my classroom now, the walls somewhere just beyond the horizon. I'm on the other side of the desk too, which feels different. It's been ages sinces I've felt this vulnerable, this lost, this excited. There are no guarantees I'll even ask the right questions, much less learn anything. I know, I know. There are no dumb questions, only stupid tourists. It's my personal goal to move somewhere beyond the tourist status as I explore the places, meet the people, learn more about their culture, customs and cuisine; and learn more about myself. I figure I have about ten good years to study before the final exam, twenty if I can convince a few body parts that 60 is the new 50.
Fortunately, I have a study buddy. My husband Jim is a bigger geek than I am, especially when it comes to doing his homework before field trips. It leaves me to do what I do best - marvel, photograph and reflect via this blog on the wonder of this beautiful, blue planet and the man of my dreams. I plan on taking copious notes - dreams have a way of fading, sometimes in an instant, sometimes slowly over a lifetime. Besides, our kids are going to need Cliff Notes when they get to where we're going. They'll undoubtedly see this as one hell of a last lecture. It is what it is. I'll always be their (step)mother. They'll always be my first and favorite students.
If you're interested in being a part of that lecture via my Facebook page, A Place Called Roam, you know the drill; click that little "like" button and a copy of each and every one of my posts will be yours. The best part; no exam!
My students used to yell out, "Martina!" as they entered my classroom, and I'd yell back, "Smith," or "What up," or "Trouble." I've finally graduated all that high school nonsense - the cliques, the angst, the homework (yes, this teacher had tons of homework) and the bells. What can I say? I'm a later bloomer! And just for the record, summers were no vacation! Teachers are to coursework what mothers are to housework - their work is never done. I'm certain a few more years living life by the bell and I'd qualify for ding-a-ling status. Besides, Paul, the new kid on the block, kept thanking me for retiring so he could upgrade his part-time teaching position to full-time.
The world is my classroom now, the walls somewhere just beyond the horizon. I'm on the other side of the desk too, which feels different. It's been ages sinces I've felt this vulnerable, this lost, this excited. There are no guarantees I'll even ask the right questions, much less learn anything. I know, I know. There are no dumb questions, only stupid tourists. It's my personal goal to move somewhere beyond the tourist status as I explore the places, meet the people, learn more about their culture, customs and cuisine; and learn more about myself. I figure I have about ten good years to study before the final exam, twenty if I can convince a few body parts that 60 is the new 50.
Fortunately, I have a study buddy. My husband Jim is a bigger geek than I am, especially when it comes to doing his homework before field trips. It leaves me to do what I do best - marvel, photograph and reflect via this blog on the wonder of this beautiful, blue planet and the man of my dreams. I plan on taking copious notes - dreams have a way of fading, sometimes in an instant, sometimes slowly over a lifetime. Besides, our kids are going to need Cliff Notes when they get to where we're going. They'll undoubtedly see this as one hell of a last lecture. It is what it is. I'll always be their (step)mother. They'll always be my first and favorite students.
If you're interested in being a part of that lecture via my Facebook page, A Place Called Roam, you know the drill; click that little "like" button and a copy of each and every one of my posts will be yours. The best part; no exam!
