As I rode my bike home from my first day of Learn to Row, it occurred to me I’ve been taking lessons my whole life. I began to compile a list of all the classes, workshops, lessons I’ve taken.
First, there was ballet. This always shocks people for two reasons. First, I am approximately 2x the size of the average ballerina in all directions. Second, I am incredibly clumsy. Although, I did have a guy tell me I was graceful once. When I protested that I’m always falling, he said, “Yes, but you fall gracefully.” Maybe I learned something.
There were summer swimming lessons, which were re-taken as an adult when I wanted to learn how to swim freestyle efficiently. There were ice skating lessons which were also repeated in adulthood until I realized 30 is not the right time in life to learn how to jump on ice (after partially tearing an MCL in my knee).
There were gymnastics lessons. I was exceptionally good at the uneven parallel bars for my age. Perhaps it was because I was the only one who could reach them?
I took piano lessons and learned how to play “Happiness Is” from some Charlie Brown musical I’d never head of. It still gets stuck in my head from time to time. I had slightly better results when I switched to the clarinet, but having no sense of time was a problem.
I settled on horseback riding and for 4 years was pretty much dedicated to nothing but horses, paying for them, and school. By my senior year of high school, I realized I had to choose between having a horse and going to college–my minimum wage jobs weren’t going to pay for both. That’s about the time I managed to come up with the money for a package of skiing lessons.
In college, I took a weight lifting class and aerobics–both part of my PE requirement. When I was a little more settled again, I started with a trainer at the gym. Then it was nutrition classes. I even took a cooking class, although it turned out to be a rather alternative cooking class based on the yin and yang of food. My husband wouldn’t eat anything I prepared from there.
I took a motorcycle class and friends taught me how to water ski, bowl, and play softball. I took a rock climbing class and eventually took up yoga classes.
Later, Pat tried to teach me to play the drums, then I resorted to learning to play a hand drum. Still no sense of time. I switched to trying to learn to speak German instead, but I wasn’t much better at that.
The list goes on and on.
Since coming to Chattanooga, I’ve earned my novice hang gliding pilot rating, started learning how to care for non-releasable birds of prey, gotten some informal lessons on kayaking, and gone to several photography workshops.
Jack of all trades, master of none. As I rode my bike home from my first day of Learn to Row, it occurred to me I’ve been taking lessons my whole life. I began to compile a list of all the classes, workshops, lessons I’ve taken.
First, there was ballet. This always shocks people for two reasons. First, I am approximately 2x the size of the average ballerina in all directions. Second, I am incredibly clumsy. Although, I did have a guy tell me I was graceful once. When I protested that I’m always falling, he said, “Yes, but you fall gracefully.” Maybe I learned something.
There were summer swimming lessons, which were re-taken as an adult when I wanted to learn how to swim freestyle efficiently. There were ice skating lessons which were also repeated in adulthood until I realized 30 is not the right time in life to learn how to jump on ice (after partially tearing an MCL in my knee).
There were gymnastics lessons. I was exceptionally good at the uneven parallel bars for my age. Perhaps it was because I was the only one who could reach them?
I took piano lessons and learned how to play “Happiness Is” from some Charlie Brown musical I’d never head of. It still gets stuck in my head from time to time. I had slightly better results when I switched to the clarinet, but having no sense of time was a problem.
I settled on horseback riding and for 4 years was pretty much dedicated to nothing but horses, paying for them, and school. By my senior year of high school, I realized I had to choose between having a horse and going to college–my minimum wage jobs weren’t going to pay for both. That’s about the time I managed to come up with the money for a package of skiing lessons.
In college, I took a weight lifting class and aerobics–both part of my PE requirement. When I was a little more settled again, I started with a trainer at the gym. Then it was nutrition classes. I even took a cooking class, although it turned out to be a rather alternative cooking class based on the yin and yang of food. My husband wouldn’t eat anything I prepared from there.
I took a motorcycle class and friends taught me how to water ski, bowl, and play softball. I took a rock climbing class and eventually took up yoga classes.
Later, Pat tried to teach me to play the drums, then I resorted to learning to play a hand drum. Still no sense of time. I switched to trying to learn to speak German instead, but I wasn’t much better at that.
The list goes on and on.
Since coming to Chattanooga, I’ve earned my novice hang gliding pilot rating, started learning how to care for non-releasable birds of prey, gotten some informal lessons on kayaking, and gone to several photography workshops.
Jack of all trades, master of none.