Heather's Haven

Let me begin with a disclaimer: Anybody who knows me may be disappointed with
what's to follow. Readers will find it tame and typical, and past or present students
have discovered (or soon will) that I'm quite open with nearly every aspect of my
life--if, that is, I feel sharing may provide an opportunity for learning academic or
life lessons.

As such, I often hear "TMI Mr. H" or "I really didn't need to know that." In some
cases, the responses ring true and my mental censors have malfunctioned; in others,
however, those captive listeners find that later, when faced with similar situations,
they react differently then they had before, therefore learning the lesson I originally
hoped to impart. There are no lessons below, simply a bit about me as I was and am
today: exciting it's not, but it is truthful from start to finish. I hope that counts for
something.

Born a military brat on a base in Bremerhaven, Bremen, Germany, I moved around
a lot for the first ten years or so of my life. I spent some time in Misawa, Japan as a
toddler and even attended pre-school there before moving back to the states. After
some time in Virginia Beach, VA, my dad retired from the Navy and we moved to
Macomb, IL before settling in Troy in 1980. I graduated from Triad High School
(before they built the new one) with a modest GPA; hanging out with the "cool
kids" had its detriments as my straight A's devolved more into B's and C's by
commencement. Mom tells me that they tried to enroll me in a school for gifted kids
as a youngster, and I refused, but I don't recall that. In fact, I don't recall much from
my childhood for whatever reason.

I enlisted in the Navy upon graduation with hopes of seeing the world, but those
hopes were quickly dashed when I was stationed aboard the USS Enterprise just
months before its reactor refueling. I performed a number of odd jobs while the
carrier was in dry dock, none of which seemed pertinent to my job as a nuclear
propulsion plant mechanic. (The words still roll off the tongue so easily, and as I say
them, I realize I defined myself solely by my occupation then, using it to bolster my
self-esteem. Today I know better.)

I quickly soured on the military, and found myself home less than four years after
my initial enlistment with no real plan, other than enrolling at SIUE. Even that was
only half-hearted, but I managed to eke through the first two semesters aimlessly
with a mediocre grade point average. Meeting my wife Kris injected a new
enthusiasm into my motivation to finish college, and during my sophomore year I
took an English survey course that helped me decide on a course in life as a teacher.
I received my undergraduate degree in the spring of 1998 with plans to enter
teaching, albeit hesitantly after a somewhat eye opening student teaching
experience.

Those plans would have to wait, though, as I was offered and accepted a graduate
assistantship to earn an advanced degree. During those two years, I learned to love
teaching writing as I discovered so much about the students with which I was
sharing my life. I stayed on as a lecturer and eventually earned an instructorship,
but opportunity emerged from tragedy when we were offered the chance to buy the
house we had been renting for years after my father-in-law's death. Very much
wanting to own our own home, Kris and I decided it was time for me to leave the
refuge of university life and embark into the secondary arena. I wondered if the
newly earned master's degree would be a hindrance.

Nervously I mailed off application packets. Just as I was becoming accustomed to
rejection, Dr. Jonathan Heerboth, then Dupo High School's principal, called me in
for an interview. He offered me the position the same day, which for me was a
no-brainer. Little did I know how difficult the job would prove to be. The kids
tested me like Volvo tests crash test dummies, and I left work on the verge of tears
on a number of occasions with the intent of leaving just as soon as a better
opportunity presented itself. It never has. Once I gained the students' trust, the job
seemed to become easier. Reflecting now it seems more Darwinian than anything
else: We humans adapt to meet whatever challenges present themselves to us, so
long as we can walk through the fear of failure.

My excitement for the job increases each and every year, as does my ambition to be
successful. Being successful today is not so much about me as it is my students, and
their success is not determined by the grades they receive but by the people they
grow to be. If they are happy with the lives they build for themselves, then I
consider my job a success--whether I had a direct impact on them individually or
not. Call it naïve, or transcendental, or whatever you like; I like to think of it as
fulfilling.

And my life is fulfilling today. When I'm not teaching or preparing for the following
year (as I am now), I spend much of my time working on Kris's "honey-do list"
(which seems to be morphing more into a simple "to-do list" as I become more aware
of the responsibilities of owning a home and more willing to perform them) or
building scale model kits (a hobby I took up as an impatient youngster and have in
the last ten years resuscitated--thanks in large part to E-bay). I also watch a lot of
television--much more than I should--and have taken a liking to NASCAR in the
last four years or so. I own quite a few boomerangs as well (yes, the Australian
influenced kind), but I haven't thrown them in a while. Maybe I'll get back to
watching one spiral artfully through space, wondering how far left or right I'll have
to run to catch it upon its return. Someone once termed boomerangs "sculptures in
the sky" while in flight. The experience certainly is spiritual. I try to be.