ABSTRACT
After auditing a summer school course on the topic of educational leadership I wrote:
Like a tender lavender sprig tugged and slammed by the violent summer storms that we witnessed in Lennoxville this July, I have been whipped through a wind tunnel of intense learning. Two weeks after Summer School began, I was tossed out, stunned, at the other end. Bruised, but not broken. Now, at home, I sit down to write, and try to make sense of it all. I am safe, yet there is a persistent uneasiness, a continuing, stirring draft that won’t let me rest, won’t let go. It carries a whispered potential. And so I straighten myself up and look at the new landscape in which I have landed. My story may read as an exaggeration, not believable to some. Perhaps it won’t be believed except by those who lived it.
