In the middle of the journey of my life, I am--as always--a woman on a bike. Although I do not know where this road will lead, the way is not lost, for I have arrived here. And I am on my bicycle, again.
Yesterday was the "real" Veterans' Day--which is the anniversary of the Armistice. Since it fell on a Sunday, VD is being observed today. Observed by whom? I had to go to work. In one way, I can't complain: After all, I am off on holidays I don't celebrate. On the other hand, I am sure there are a number of veterans among the staff and faculty of my college, and the university of which it is a part. Not to mention that some of my students have been veterans, or were even active military personnel while they took my classes.
Anyway, my ride yesterday included a tribute. On a gorgeous but chilly autumn day, I decided to ride to Connecticut. I normally don't do the ride with much, if any, of a rationale, but I did have one, sort of, yesterday.
Of course, if I only wanted to go to a veterans' memorial, there are plenty of those in the city where I live. But at least I knew that if I rode to Greenwich, I could spend some time at its memorial, right in the middle of its common.
The trees, the light, the color all seemed perfect for my moment of silence and meditation. I never knew any of the people whose names are inscribed on the memorial, but I could offer them a remembrance, however small and brief. I guess we can't do much more for anyone, however he or she dies.
Oh, and I could be thankful--as I was--that I could ride home again. They couldn't.
The other day, I commemorated the 80th anniversary of Kristallnacht: the night when anti-Semitism descended from harassment to violence and, ultimately, to death. It was also the night of the first mass deportations of Jews to the Nazi death camps. Today is the centennial of the event that was supposed to prevent the war into which the world descended not long after Kristallnacht. (Some would argue that the war was already underway; I wouldn't disagree.) I am talking, of course, about the Armistice. As we all heard in school, "on the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month" in 1918, the Armistice--which was supposed to end hostilities, not only between the Allies and the Central Powers, but throughout the world--was signed. Would it have worked if the United States had agreed to join a worldwide organization--one whose founders included the American President, no less--created for the purpose of fostering cooperation? We will never know. I could not, however, help but to note the irony of this photo: It's the 1940 Armistice Day parade in Yakima, Washington. At that very moment, Europe was at war again: During the fourteen months that preceded the scene in the photo, Germany had invaded Poland, Denmark, Norway, Belgium, the Netherlands, Luxembourg, France, Yugoslavia and Greece. Less than thirteen months after that photo was taken, the US would also be drawn into that war. Nobody has ever celebrated an "Armistice" to end World War II, or any war since then. And, in the US, this day has been turned into "Veterans' Day" --a holiday I wholeheartedly endorse, as much as I abhor war-- which will be commemorated tomorrow. (About Veterans' Day: As much as I'm in favor of this holiday, I wish its emphasis was on the ones who gave their limbs, senses, bodies and even lives, rather than on the glorification of their "victories." I also would favor calling it "Remembrance Day," as it's known in Canada and the UK.)
Minnesota State College Southeast, in the city of Red Wing, has a guitar repair and building program. That program has a waiting list. So, why am I mentioning it in this blog? Well, folks at the college realized that the reason why so many students signed up for the program is something every educator knows: Students will be engaged, work hard and learn well when teachers encourage students to work on something that fits their passions. That is a scenario Travis Thul, the college's Dean of Trade and Technology, wanted to replicate in another program he's helping to create. He says the college was looking for something that has "unique, tangible emotional appeal" while, at the same time, "encompassing the core competencies of mass manufacturing." So what did he and the college come upon? Well, since you're reading this blog, you may have already guessed the answer: the bicycle. As he says, most people have grown up with a bicycle and recall the fun they had with it. Also, the city of Red Wing has a "bicycle-oriented culture," with trails that attract riders from the surrounding areas.
Furthermore, Minnesota and neighboring Wisconsin have companies that represent a disproportionate amount of the US bicycle business, so there are job opportunities for graduates of the college's bicycle design and fabrication program. The first classes--which include algebra and physics--will be held in the Fall of 2019, and the first graduates are expected to get their Associate of Applied Science degree in 2021 after completing 60 credits. While students will study traditional aspects of bicycle design, Thul says that he and other faculty members decided, "it's very important that core mathematics and physics are taken seriously" because "the force distribution on one bicycle frame is going to be different from the force distribution on another frame." Also, he hopes that this background will help and encourage students to take on another passion of his: designing and building adaptable bicycles for handicapped people. But the most important goal of the program, according to Thul, might be to help students develop transferable skills. "A drivetrain is a drivetrain. Gearing is gearing. Welding is welding," he explained. They are skills, he says, that can be "used at Red Wing Shoes, Fastenal, Valley Craft" and many other local--and worldwide--manufacturing companies.
The program certainly sounds interesting,and I can't blame Thul for thinking he has the right idea. After all, he recently received a call from the CEO of a company in Montreal, Quebec. That CEO wants to hire graduates of his program.
