Rocks, Jacques Cartier and A Confession: A Weekend of Unplugd!

"Everybody Needs a Rock"                                                                                               

Thanks Kelly for Reminding me of this!

What to say about Unplugd? I've been trying to process my thoughts about this past weekend. They are jumbled and vast and there are so many layers to what I experienced that words have not flowed readily. I've been reading posts of others who attended. Rocks and the significance of the rocks we brought figure large. So rocks it is ... as good a place to start as any.

I have to confess that when I first read that I was to bring a rock my reaction was ... "LAME ... what kind of contrived activity will I be forced to participate in?"  I had much the same reaction when we used to do ice breaker activities at workshops and I had to run around the room trying to find someone who had also eaten pizza for dinner or spoke French or had a dog to sign my sheet.  (I'm sure they don't make doctors at their professional development meetings do those things.)

Then I thought that maybe we'd get to throw our rocks - heave them into the lake all at once to see who could throw the farthest. That might be fun. 

Needless to say  I didn't spend a great deal of time picking my rock.  I left it to the last day - the morning of - in fact. I drove up the Niagara Escarpment and stopped near Harper's Garden Centre. (NO! I did not purchase my rock ... although I have to admit, I was tempted) looked around and found a perfectly adequate pock-marked, irregular, fossil-laden stone that is typical of the escarpment, said that will do and stuffed it in my pocket. 

When we gathered in the circle and began telling the stories of our rocks and connecting our rocks and more importantly ourselves to each others' stories, I became deeply moved. I sat there thinking of where my rock had come from - its incredible geologic history  and the beauty of its home that I get to see everyday outside my classroom window which faces onto the escarpment. My rock began to gather meaning.

                                  photo by @cogdog Alan Levine

Many rock stories linger with me still, Donna's tale of scouring the shores of Lake Superior, Alan's rock from Arizona and the journey it represents, Rob's 5 rocks (definitely not a rule follower), and many more that meant so many things to so many people.  As we continued to build connections to each others stories, I was humbled. I was somewhat embarrassed about how callously I had obtained my rock. And then I thought about how often I close the door on things before they have even begun to open. Was my rock more representative of me than I had realized?

    by Alan Levine

Later that weekend four of us went canoeing to the end of the lake and entered a spectacular winding river that marks the entrance into Algonquin Park. Algonquin Park rivers are like no others. Tim, our guide told us that Jacques Cartier had made it as far as the entrance to the river and then turned back because he thought there'd be nothing there.  Ouch. How often do I turn my back on something before I've arrived? 

I thought about how often we do this as educators. How when a new idea arrives or a new method is introduced or someone comes to us and says, "Research says that if you begin doing .... you will get better results." And we slam the door closed with a, "I've been in the classroom for 20 years, thank you very much. I already know how to teach." I think I've been guilty of that a time or two.

At the end of the weekend when Rodd suggested that we might want to leave our rocks somewhere at Northern Edge, I knew immediately where I was going to place mine. As soon as our last Circle ended I made straight for Points North - a beautiful, gathering spot built of wood and granite and windows. I placed my rock just outside one of its doors. I placed it as a reminder for me to keep the doors open.