Happy Birthday, Wikipedia!

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Every January still brings a little spark of that old classroom rhythm — the sense of fresh starts, shiny new laptops, and the promise of innovative ideas. Even in retirement, I find myself paying attention to the tools, like Generative AI that continue to shape how students learn and how all of us make sense of the world. This year, one of those tools is celebrating a milestone: Wikipedia just turned twenty‑five. A quarter‑century of open collaboration, spirited debate, and dedicated volunteers tending the largest living reference work ever created. As it reaches this milestone, I’ve been thinking about how much it has influenced the way we teach research, develop curiosity, and encourage critical thinking.

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A Starting Point That Changed the Classroom

When Wikipedia launched in 2001, it felt like a grand experiment. Could strangers on the internet really build a reliable encyclopedia together? Twenty‑five years later, the answer is complicated in the best possible way. Wikipedia now contains millions of articles in hundreds of languages, all maintained by a global community of volunteer editors. It’s messy, transparent, and constantly evolving — which is exactly why it became such a powerful tool for students.

When I was teaching at Blue Ridge Community College in Flat Rock, North Carolina, I never allowed Wikipedia as a source in research papers. Most teachers didn’t. But I always encouraged my students to use it as a starting point. So many of them would come to me with enormous, unwieldy topics — “gun control,” “immigration,” “the death penalty,” “global warming.” Wikipedia helped them narrow their focus. They could skim the broad strokes, learn the vocabulary, and begin to see where the real scholarly conversations were happening.

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Then there were those glorious lists at the bottom of each article! I used to tell students, “Scroll all the way down. That’s where the good stuff is.” Wikipedia’s citations often led them to peer‑reviewed journals, reputable news outlets, books, and primary sources they could use. In a world where students often feel overwhelmed by information, Wikipedia, along with a good teacher, could teach them how to trace knowledge back to its roots.

Transparency as a Teaching Tool

One of Wikipedia’s greatest strengths has always been its openness. Every edit is logged. Every claim must be sourced. As a composition teacher, I was able to point this out to students. We were able to actually look at the edits. Also, our librarians would point out the dangers of taking Wikipedia at face value and look at some of the hoaxes and false information rooted out and eliminated. One of my favorite hoaxes was about my college’s hometown of Hendersonville, North Carolina, stating that the city in the Southern mountains had monkeys roaming its streets. However, such is Wikipedia’s transparency that it keeps track of hoaxes and misinformation on its own wiki!

Challenges in an AI‑Shaped World

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Of course, openness comes with challenges. Wikipedia has spent years grappling with issues of representation, bias, and the uneven distribution of editors across cultures and languages. And now, a new challenge has arrived: generative AI.

AI tools — including the one helping me write this article— learn from vast amounts of online text. Wikipedia is one of the richest sources of human‑curated knowledge available, which means AI companies have been using, and maybe even misusing it, to train their models. As human traffic has dipped, bot traffic has surged, sometimes disguising itself to avoid detection and placing strain on Wikipedia’s infrastructure.

This raises big questions: How do we protect an open resource in a world where machines consume information faster than humans can contribute it? How do we ensure that the volunteers who built Wikipedia aren’t overshadowed by the tools that learned from them?

A New Kind of Collaboration

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For its 25th birthday, Wikipedia chose a path that feels true to its spirit: collaboration. The Wikimedia Foundation announced new licensing agreements with major AI companies — Amazon, Meta, Microsoft, Perplexity, and Mistral AI among them. These agreements ensure that companies relying on Wikipedia’s data contribute to the cost of maintaining it.

For decades, Wikipedia survived on the generosity of individual donors — millions of them — who believed in free knowledge. But as AI companies increasingly depend on Wikipedia’s content, the Foundation has made it clear: if you’re going to build your models on the work of volunteers, you need to help sustain the platform that made that work possible.

What This Means for Education

For teachers, this moment feels especially important. Students today often encounter information through AI‑generated summaries rather than clicking through to original sources. When they write, pressed for time, they may be tempted to let AI do all the work, not properly contributing or even editing what the computer spits out. That means fewer opportunities to see how knowledge is constructed — and fewer chances to practice evaluating it.

We can only hope that Wikipedia’s new partnerships will help preserve the ecosystem of inquiry that educators rely on. By ensuring responsible, sustainable access to its data, the Foundation is protecting the integrity of the source material. And because Wikipedia remains free for human users, students can still dive into the articles themselves, explore the citations, and follow the breadcrumb trail of research.

A Future Rooted in Curiosity

As part of its birthday celebration, Wikimedia, the parent organization of Wikipedia, has highlighted the people behind the pages — librarians, teachers, retirees, students — all contributing to this improbable project. It’s a reminder that Wikipedia’s greatest strength isn’t its technology but its community.

In a world where information can feel slippery, Wikipedia’s commitment to openness — imperfect, collaborative, and human — feels more vital than ever, especially for the classroom.

So Happy Birthday, Wikipedia! Live long and prosper!

Upon Re-Reading Animal Farm

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I recently re-read Animal Farm, by George Orwell and it’s just as relevant and powerful as when I first encountered it in middle school. Orwell’s tale of rebellion and betrayal stirred something in me even then. I didn’t yet know the term “satire,” but I could feel its force. I knew Orwell wasn’t just telling a story about animals—he was warning us about power, manipulation, and the fragility of truth. That moment was a leap forward in my educational growth. It was the first time I understood that stories could say one thing on the surface and something entirely different underneath.

That breakthrough didn’t happen in isolation. Just before reading Animal Farm, I had participated in the Junior Great Books® program at my middle school. I remember sitting in a circle with a few kids from different classes, discussing a boxed set of stories and folk tales from around the world. Our teacher guided us with open-ended questions, but the magic came from the conversations themselves. That program didn’t just introduce me to literature—it taught me how to think about it.

Girl in library behind a circle of books
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The Great Books Foundation was founded in 1947 by Robert Maynard Hutchins and Mortimer Adler, visionaries who believed that meaningful conversation around classic texts should be accessible to everyone—not just scholars. In 1960, the Foundation launched the Junior Great Books program that still brings that same spirit of inquiry to younger readers like it did me all those years ago.

I still remember the African folk tales that spoke to me—stories rich with wisdom, humor, and moral complexity. They opened my eyes to cultures beyond my own and taught me that stories could carry truths across time and geography. That foundation prepared me to meet Orwell’s satire with curiosity and insight. The Junior Great Books program had already primed me to ask questions, to listen to others’ interpretations, and to trust my own instincts. Reading Animal Farm so soon after that gave me the tools to recognize manipulation, to question authority, and to appreciate the power of language—not just in literature, but in life.

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Today, I see Animal Farm challenged in some circles, dismissed as “pro-communist” by those who never learned to read it as satire. That misunderstanding underscores why programs like Junior Great Books matter. They don’t just teach kids to read—they teach them to think. To question. To recognize nuance. And in a world where critical thinking is more vital than ever, I’m deeply grateful for the education I had.

I still have that boxed set of Junior Great Books. It’s a little worn, but it reminds me of the moment I first learned to read between the lines—and how that skill has shaped everything I’ve done since. Animal Farm was the spark, but the Great Books program gave me the lens. And for that, I’ll always be thankful.

Curious about the legacy of Junior Great Books and the Shared Inquiry method that shaped generations of readers? Learn more about the Great Books Foundation’s mission and history here.

I’m still here!

Me receiving an Appy Inkwell Award for Best Memoir at the Appalachian Writer's Conference, 2024
Me receiving an Appy Inkwell Award for Best Memoir at the Appalachian Writer’s Conference, 2024

About this time last year, I found out that the opening pages of my teaching memoir, Lessons: A Teaching Life, won a contest sponsored by Martin Sisters Publishing, a small press in Barbourville, Kentucky. With the prize came eventual publication. My long year of revising, editing, and polishing began at the beginning of this year. At the end of July, I reached a milestone, finishing my personal revision and editing stage! Now, I’m working with my wonderful editor, Ryan Wineberg, to edit the book and ready it for the publisher. If all goes well, I hope to have my first book published in the first quarter of next year.

My grandfather when principal of Ridge Grove School (far right, back row)

One of the first things Ryan asked me to do was think about adding pictures, which for some reason, I had never thought about doing before. It’s been an interesting process and trip into my teaching roots, especially the pictures I have found of my own and my mother’s family, many who were educators. My grandfather, Gordon Dabbs, died before I was born, but through my mother I have learned what a great principal and physics teacher he was. My grandmother, Katherine, and her sister, Jane Leath, were also teachers as was my mother’s brother Eldridge Dabbs. My father was a principal, teacher, and coach. My mother taught English but spent the bulk of her career as a high school librarian, now retired for many years. My mother’s first cousin Judson Jones became a principal, too, and two of his daughters, Leah and Lori work in education; Lori has her doctorate like her daddy.

My grandmother with her first class at Lanett High School, Lanett, Alabama (front row, far right)
Great Aunt Jane at her retirement celebration (front row, far left)

It’s been great to look back and see pictures that represent this rich legacy that helped shape the value I put on education. For me and my family, it’s been priceless!

I will sure keep you all updated about the book’s progress. In the meantime, I’ll be traveling to the Appalachian Writers’ Conference again in September. Excited to go back and keep learning–as my dad always said, “I’m not going to retire. I’m going to refire!”

Hey, Mrs. Winkler: A History

In 2014, I started this blog as a way to stay sane as I became increasingly alarmed about the state of things at my institution, a small community college south of Asheville, North Carolina. Since 1995, I had taught English composition, developmental English, British literature, and creative writing. During the first decade or so, I had enjoyed blessed autonomy, trusted to develop my own curriculum that followed limited state and institutional guidelines. I liked it that way, and by all indications, I and other English instructors were effective teachers, especially when preparing students to be successful when they transferred to four-year institutions. We collaborated on the required freshman English classes, using the same textbooks and study materials, but we were still considered the experts when it came to our individual classes and pretty much left to create our own curriculum and assessments.

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However, as online instruction and dual enrollment became more popular, the college administration as well as the state sought more and more standardization because, you know, it’s so much easier to collect data and dollars that way and aren’t those the only things that matter? I guess you can tell how I felt about the changes and my loss of academic freedom.

As that first decade of Hey, Mrs. Winkler moved on, I found myself feeling smaller and smaller as an employee, even though I was growing in my abilities and contributions to the college, including the development of four online literature classes—World Literature II (I believe the first online lit. in the state of North Carolina), British Literature I and II, and American Literature II. I also developed accelerated online classes for the two required freshmen English courses, making it possible for students dependent on financial aid to proceed through their courses more quickly.

Even before 2014, I had become deeply involved in the theater department at my college as a writer, actor, director, dramaturg, and publicist. I also collaborated on writing screenplays for short films, one that won the 2008 Asheville 48-Hour Film Project Best Film called Serial Love. I wrote four plays that were produced at the college—a one-act comedy called Green Room, the musical A Carolina Story with music by a former student, Curtis McCarley, a faithful stage adaptation of Frankenstein by Mary Shelley, and a play about domestic violence inspired by Robert Browning’s The Ring and the Book called Battered. All four were fantastic teaching experiences as I collaborated with student actors and crew members when writing and revising the scripts.

In 2017, I launched a literary journal called Teach. Write.: A Literary Journal for Writing Teachers, which now has its own website teachwritejournal.com and is a member of the Community of Literary Magazines and Presses. The latest edition is dedicated to the people of western North Carolina and those who came to help us following the devastation caused by Hurricane Helene.

So, you see, Hey, Mrs. Winkler was not only a place to rant, but also about the wonderful collaborations and incredible students I had over the years. I love teaching, and writing the blog, then editing the journal, gave me opportunities to express all the bad, good, and seriously screwed up things that were happening. It helped me survive those last years. Finally, however, I had to leave teaching, probably because I loved it too much. I just couldn’t take what was happening to it anymore. When the opportunity arose for me to retire a bit early, I took it, and I haven’t been sorry.

It’s been over a year and a half since I retired, and although I miss my colleagues and my students, I don’t miss the administrative hassles and definitely do not miss grading essays! In some ways, especially as I work on my memoir, Lessons: A Teacher’s Life, to be published this year or early next, I feel that I haven’t left. Also, my time as a Dramatists Guild Foundation Fellow helped me rewrite A Carolina Story, which had its beginnings at the college where I taught the bulk of my career. Next month, the new A Carolina Story will have a workshop reading at Hendersonville Theatre as part of their series New Works Readings: Page to Stage

The Beat Goes On.

Validation: Two Books About Balancing Education and Training

Ned Scott Laff and Scott Carlson’s Hacking College: Why the Major Doesn’t Matter and What Really Does challenges contemporary ideas about higher education. The book takes a critical look at today’s overemphasis on majors and predefined academic tracks, instead promoting a more flexible and personalized approach to navigating college. The authors advocate for experiential learning, skill-building, and real-world readiness, encouraging students to “hack” their education by tailoring it to their unique goals and aspirations. They also emphasize uncovering “hidden intellectualism” and leveraging untapped opportunities in the workforce, offering practical advice for students to maximize their college experience in ways that extend beyond rigid curricula.

Reading Hacking College felt like a real validation of the methods I used during my time as a community college educator. Many of the principles the authors outline—like the importance of experiential learning and practical, career-focused assignments—aligned perfectly with the approach I took in my classes. In one of my English composition courses, for example, I required students to interview a professional in their desired field. This assignment wasn’t just about teaching research and communication skills; it was about connecting their academic work to the real world in a meaningful and practical way.

The results were inspiring. Many students said it was the highlight of the course, as they gained invaluable insight into their chosen professions. One student even walked away from the interview with a job! Assignments like this not only enhanced their communication and research skills but also made the value of liberal arts education more tangible.

During my years teaching freshman composition and advising students in associate degree programs, I saw firsthand the importance of integrating the “bread” of practicality with the “roses” of intellectual and personal growth—a balance Terry O’Banion captures so beautifully in Bread and Roses. While a few students arrived with clear goals and preparedness, the majority were either unprepared or had unrealistic expectations. Toward the end of my career, I noticed an increasing number of students seeking only the quickest path to a high salary or transfer to an elite school. Many questioned the value of courses, like English composition, that didn’t appear directly tied to their career goals.

To address this, I instinctively began infusing my curriculum with practical, real-world assignments like the interview project. This approach didn’t just help students see the value in what they were learning—it also created moments of clarity, confidence, and even opportunity, like the student who landed a job from their interview.

Unfortunately, I’ve watched with concern as the “roses” of liberal arts education are increasingly overshadowed by a narrow focus on workforce pipelines. Reflecting on my experiences with students—and on books like Hacking College and Bread and Roses—reminds me why this balance is so essential. Education should prepare students not just for successful careers, but for meaningful and enriching lives. I’m more determined than ever to advocate for this perspective and keep the conversation going.

Service is a dirty word

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Service is a dirty word
You may have to
Wipe inky hands
On a blackened rag
Beside a bottle
Of disinfectant
Left over
From Covid’s mandatory cleaning days
Long deemed
Useless by scientists
But not bureaucrats.

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Service is a dirty word.
You may have to
Wipe down your desk
Of ceiling tile flecks
From above you
As workers pound on the old roof
Of a building
That appears new
To the press and politicians
who don’t see you
Back there, serving

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Service is a dirty word.
You chose this filthy bed you lie in
You could have walked away.
You could have stayed so much cleaner if
You chose business or tech.
You really deserve that net decrease in pay.
For wanting, longing to serve.

Don’t you know?

Service is a dirty word.

Thanksgiving 2024

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Once again, I sit down to write on Thanksgiving Day. What a blessed life I have! I get to write just about whenever I want to! I know I’ve often used this blog to complain about the state of higher education in the American South and elsewhere, but I’m grateful that I CAN and have always been able to voice my dissent or approval despite my occasional confrontational style and unconventional teaching methods. For most of my career, in fact, I have been free to pursue whatever I thought best for my students, free to encourage, admonish, and challenge them.

Now that I’m retired, I’m grateful for the modern technology that allows me to easily maintain this blog and publish my literary journal Teach. Write. These publications allow me to continue having a voice about education in my country. This upcoming year, however, although I will still acknowledge my concerns, I am going to make a point to seek out more of the good that I come across, the innovative and exciting initiatives that I hear about, the positive use of new technologies, how instructors are not only coping with the times but also finding ways to bring their students back to the place where they are less anxious about their education and excited about learning. I want to find the students who are enjoying their education and discover why. I also want to highlight the activities of educational organizations I’m a part of, including the American Association of University Professors, the Phi Kappa Phi teaching honor society, and the Educational Foundation of Henderson County Public Schools.

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Another focus of this new year is continuing to look back and mine the educational gems of my own past as I edit my teaching memoir, Lessons: A Teaching Life. I have been thinking a great deal about my own education as well as my career as an instructor during this time of revision. I have so many things I want to write about, but not all of my stories belong in the book, not this one anyway. The blog will be a good place for my memories, ones that will, I hope, instruct and encourage teachers, students, and parents.

I have so much to be thankful for during this my second year of retirement–family, friends, neighbors, health, security, prosperity. Sure, there are still difficult times like hurricanes and elections, still things to complain about and to work to improve, but all that can wait for another day, can’t it?

Today, let’s just raise a glass and say, “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

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Face-to-face and One-on-One

Samford Hall at Auburn University–Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

I was talking to my nephew Ruben this past weekend. He just started this semester attending Auburn University after getting his Associates at Southern Union Community College in Opelika, AL. He has an interesting perspective on American colleges and universities because, although he has an American father, he was raised and educated in Germany, where my brother has lived and worked for decades as a pastor after making the wise decision to marry my wonderful sister-in-law, who is a German doctor.

Ruben was glad that he attended a community college first so that he could establish residency, improve his already excellent English language skills, and acclimate to the American educational system. He did well and accomplished his goals, grateful for a low-cost alternative for satisfying his general education requirements.

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However, at Auburn this semester, he has been able to begin working on his major area of study, graphic design, and that has been the highlight of his time in American higher education so far. Why? Of course, working on projects that are teaching him the skills necessary for his desired employment is one of the reasons. The class is several lab hours a few days a week where students’ work is evaluated and critiqued openly. In addition, students are expected to work on projects outside of class and those who wish to do well will come to work in the studios late at night. But, since Ruben almost always meets his fellow students in the studio, where there’s plenty of talk and laughter, he doesn’t mind the late-night work so much.

As I listened to my nephew, though, I soon realized that the main reason he is enjoying his graphic design so much is the professor. Turns out she’s tough and demanding, expecting students to show up prepared for class and able to take constructive criticism. She roams the studio during class, watching students work, looking at their projects, and pointing out what needs to be improved. She is not all warm and fuzzy, and Ruben likes this. It’s a challenge that he enjoys rising to.

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I felt so heartened as I listened to Ruben talk about his class, about working hard and enjoying it. So much of that had been lost in my last few years of teaching. Now that I’m retired over a year, I can see that some of my discouragement came from burnout. I was just so ready to retire. However, some of that burnout came from showing compassion for students who were truly struggling with serious issues of physical or psychological abuse, food and housing insecurity as well as with the subject matter, while shoring up the resilience and persistence of others whose overprivileged lives and faux fragility was crippling them.

Both types of students need a rigorous and challenging hands-on learning experience with a dedicated educator like Ruben’s professor, who demands excellence from her students and yet takes the time to build relationships with them. The ones who have it tough often find hard course work and thinking as an escape, and the ones who’ve never needed to work hard before need it because, well, they need to learn how to work hard for something–we all do. As Dad said, “It builds character.” Of course, the students have to be, like my nephew, willing to accept critique and respect the professor’s expertise. Ruben does not feel that he has nothing to learn, that he’s just ticking off a box. He is approaching the class with diligence and humility, which in turn is, I’m sure, allowing the professor to give more of what she has to give.

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I felt better about higher education after talking with my nephew on Saturday. As long as there are teachers who are willing to give and students who will receive, face-to-face and one-on-one, then solid American higher education will continue, and our country will be the stronger for it.

Horrible Helene

Neighbors Helping Neighbors–Photo by Katie Winkler

My hometown in Western North Carolina lay directly in the path of Tropical Cyclone Helene as it made its mad way through the Southeast. Never in my life did I think I would encounter the worst natural disaster in the state’s history here in the mountains. In my little neighborhood of two narrow dead-end roads, our neighbors joined together to remove six downed trees in less than half a day, so that we could get out of our neighborhood. For weeks we have shared news, food, water, the best roads to travel and when, where the best cell reception could be found. We have become better friends.

Over and over again in the almost four weeks since the storm hit, I have been astounded at the way our people have come together to care for each other and how people from all over the United States and Canada have joined to help us. My heart is full of gratitude.

And you know, none of us talked about politics.

I wonder, however, as we near the end of a contentious election season, if our togetherness during the crisis can withstand our political divisions, especially when it comes to education.

To me, in the race for the North Carolina Superintendent of Education, the choice seems to be amazingly clear, Mo Green, who has served North Carolina Public Schools as superintendent of Guilford County Schools and general consul for Charlotte-Mecklenberg Schools. Hands down! His knowledge of the public school system is extensive because of these positions. He is already intimately area of how our system works, its strengths and weaknesses. In addition, his mother, a special education teacher, instilled in Green a deep respect for teachers that his opponent, MIchele Morrow, lacks. She has in the past called schools “indoctrination centers” and its teachers “groomers.” A quick search of her well-documented past reveals even more alarming rhetoric, including calling for the public execution of President Obama and the overthrowing of the constitution.

However, the extremism is not only in the past. Michele Morrow simply can’t help herself. Although she has toned down her rhetoric during debates and public appearances, focusing on “safety,” her bias, especially against LGBTQIA+ individuals and immigrants, keeps cropping up as in her Sept. 16 post on X. Ironically, Morrow begins her post writing, “We must keep EVERY student safe in ALL our schools!” However, after criticizing her opponent Mo Green for winning the endorsement of Equality NC, a pro-LGBTQIA+ group, Morrow’s pre-campaign rhetoric comes out once again: “NEWSFLASH: the ‘+’ includes PEDOPH*L*A.” How such an untrue and inflammatory implication can serve to keep every student safe, especially non-binary ones, is unclear. 

Another attack on the LGBTQIA+ community occurred during Pride month (June) last year. Morrow made one of her frequent visits to the Wake County School Board meetings, and during a three-minute rambling statement said, “There is no pride in perversion.” One might say that Morrow is entitled to her opinion about queer people, which is certainly true, but her rhetoric clearly belies her concern for the estimated 10% of students who identify as non-binary according to a survey conducted by the Williams Institute at UCLA’s School of Law.

 Her statement is consistent with her continuing obsession with the “indoctrination” of our public schools by what she calls the far left. However, a 2021 national study by the conservative think tank The Heritage Foundation, revered by many Christian nationalists, found no evidence of the extremes and even concluded the following: 

The average teacher response was consistently more moderate than that of the average liberal in the nationally representative sample. We find little evidence that a large percentage of teachers are systemically imposing a radical political agenda in K–12 classrooms. We discuss implications of these results—including the possibility that teachers may often be allies, rather than opponents, of parents concerned about critical race theory, the 1619 Project, and other divisive ideologies in public schools.

Trees down in my neighborhood–Photo by Katie Winkler

My prayer is that unity and togetherness that came to us during the aftermath of Horrible Helene will remain with us as we go into the coming storm of one the most contentious elections in our nation’s history. May we make decisions based on respect for all teachers, students, and parents–not just those who hold a certain worldview.

https://twitter.com/i/status/1810263505536205206

https://youtu.be/xCxiCqInRRI?si=ymIgxsNwIQC6oXf- 

LGBT Youth Population in the United States – Williams Institute (ucla.edu) 
BG3672.pdf (heritage.org)

Happy News!

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In my last blog post, I wrote about attending the Appalachian Writer’s Conference held at Berea College, but what I couldn’t announce then is that I won first place in the memoir category of the Appy Inkwell Writing Awards sponsored by the conference. Part of the prize for first place is publication with Martin Sisters Publishing!

As I’ve written in other blogposts, I made completing my memoir one of major writing projects of my first retirement year and accomplished that, but the opportunity to enter the Appy Inkwell Awards came up unexpectedly when I went to register for the Appalachian Writer’s Conference. I worked on polishing the first 2,500 words of the book and was quite pleased with the results, but what a surprise!

I celebrated the first-year anniversary of my retirement on August 1 and on August 3 received the e-mail saying that I had won!! I was so happy to tell the good news to my 88-year-old mother, the person who inspired me to write my teaching memoir shortly before I retired. What a thrill!

The awards ceremony came after three days of making new writer friends and learning so much about the craft and business of writing at the conference. Truly an amazing experience. I also enjoyed walking around the beautiful Berea College campus, talking with college students (one of the things I miss about teaching), eating delicious food, and traveling around the Kentucky countryside. I especially enjoyed traveling to New Castle, KY into Wendell Berry country. He’s one of my literary heroes!

Visiting Frankfort, the capital of Kentucky was a delightful spontaneous adventure. I had a good meal at the Cliffside Diner, walked around the city and the grounds of the capitol and took a trip to the Frankfort cemetery located above the Kentucky River to see the grave of Daniel and Rebecca Boone.

That day alone, traveling around the rolling hills and farmland of Kentucky before the conference and the awards ceremony, was a precious time of reflection, thinking about my life and my career. I remember in undergraduate school how I arrogantly tacked a note to the bulletin board on my dorm room door that stated I would be “Future Teacher of the Year and Winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature.” I never accomplished the first and am unlikely to complete the second, but I have had a grand career as a teacher and a writer. I may be officially retired, but I’ll never stop being either one.

I can’t.