Seven Months with Penny

When we adopted Penelope on 5/29/21, I didn't realize how quickly time would fly. The days, they say, are long, but the years are short. If anything, I learned just how true this adage can be this year! 

It is December 29, and 7 months have gone by in a wink. Ashleigh and I are slowly figuring out a work-week routine, and are learning how to be parents just as Penny learns how to roll over, sit up, say "ba, ba, ba," and crawl around. She is holding her bottle on her own, eating solid food, and smiling at everyone she meets. Her first Halloween was fun, everyone who came by to trick or treat got a big smile and giggle from Penny. She was dressed in a butterfly costume that Ashleigh picked out. Prettiest little butterfly I've ever seen! She looked adorable!

Penny's first Christmas was really great to experience. Everyone pulled out all the stops and she ended up with so many cute clothes from Mamaw Gwenda and YaYa Jane. She got to spend some time with Uncle Kevin and Aunt Stacy, and her cousins Avery June and Rori. Our neighbors Ron and Sharon bought her a 3-in-1 toy that turns into a walker, with buttons and gizmos that make noise and play songs. But her favorite gift has to be a bouncer seat from YaYa and Daddy Bill (her papaw). She has played in it for hours every day since Christmas, bouncing until she wears herself out! Watching her play and explore the different things her toys can do has been so much fun for Ashleigh and I. 

She is growing and changing so quickly, it's hard to keep up! For us, it's a bittersweet mix of wanting her to remain small, but excitement for all of the potential she has. It's exciting to think about what she will do with her life. Our hope is that she will remain this sweet, happy, wonderful little person that she is, and continue to bring joy into the world all around her. 

What I Did This Summer

I'm hard pressed to think of another summer that held so many changes for me. There was the summer between high school and college, and the summer separating college and graduate school. One summer, 9 years ago, I married my love, Ashleigh. Each of those summers has held great opportunity and change for me, but this summer stands apart in the number and magnitude of changes, chances, and opportunities. 

This summer, I turned 40. I didn't know how I'd feel about reaching this landmark age. There's a certain symbolism about the age of 40. It seems like it's supposed to be this mystical and inevitable doorway to middle age, with youth in the rear view mirror and perspective beginning to come into focus. I don't know if it has hit me quite to that extent. But I have spent a lot of time reflecting this year, more than normal. The reasons why might become clear soon. 

This summer, I changed career paths, left academia and higher education, and got a job as an 8th grade science teacher. I have no real experience teaching middle school, but I have 9 years of experience teaching college classes. I feel comfortable in front of groups of people, and I know my content area really well. I'm lucky that 8th grade science has a large natural history focus. We will learn about climate change, natural and artificial selection, ecology, and geologic history. These topics are definitely in my wheelhouse, and I'm excited to teach these concepts to eager students. Two realizations that I've had in the past five weeks: 

1. Teaching is exhausting! It takes a ton of energy to keep the attention of a room of twenty to thirty 13 year olds, to make sure they understand the content, to differentiate teaching methods so that all students can succeed, and to maintain positivity and enthusiasm from morning to late afternoon.  
2. I need help managing classroom behaviors and routines. 

All that said, I have met so many dynamic, hilarious, and interesting kids through this, and I'm having more fun with it than I ever thought possible. And, I think I'm building up some endurance, I'm not nearly as tired at this point in the semester, which is just past midterms, than I was at the end of week 1 and 2. The 8th grade team is a fun, amazing, and friendly group. I also think I'm getting a handle on all of the non-teaching aspects of the job, the alphabet soup of abbreviations and acronyms, and the various reports to be filed. Don't get me wrong - I still have a ton to learn, but it's getting easier. 

Having said that, I am still exhausted. And part of the reason is that this summer, Ashleigh and I adopted a beautiful baby girl. Penelope Melissa made her debut on May 29, 2021, and has won the hearts of all of our family and friends since then. Truly, I was terrified to be a father, and I was afraid to adopt. What if I couldn't connect with her? What if I couldn't love her? Of course, all of that was foolish. She is the best thing that ever happened to Ashleigh and I, and I can't imagine life without her. She is easy to love, and it's fun to watch her grow and change. I wonder what she will be like, what her interests will be, if she will be silly, nerdy, fun, and kind, and if she will love trees and flowers and all wild things found in nature. Her grandparents love her, her uncles and aunts love her, and her cousins love her. So many people have helped us in various ways to learn how to be parents. It would be easy to list over a hundred people who love Penny, and for that we are so grateful and happy! 

So, to review - I'm exhausted. I'm learning to let go of old goals that had become toxic and were dragging me down. I've embraced a new career, one that allows me to teach and care for a different audience. And, Ashleigh and I have an adorable munchkin that fills our hearts with love. Not to mention, Sassafras is walking better and becoming stronger by the day! It has been quite a Summer! It feels like the curtain has fallen on Act 1, and Act 2 has begun! 

Beginnings and Endings

 My time at Transylvania University began with a simple email sent in the summer of 2012.

“My name is Josh Adkins. I’m finishing my PhD in Entomology at UK and am looking for teaching opportunities in higher education. Do you have need for an adjunct professor for the upcoming semester?”

It turned out that the answer to that question was “yes!” What I didn’t know at the time was that semester stint in teaching at Transy would be the beginning of a nine year long position, first as a visiting professor and then as adjunct professor and lab coordinator in the biology program. It was a very exciting opportunity for someone fresh out of graduate school, and I was very thankful for it. It seemed to happen at just the right time.

I learned a lot over these past nine years, especially about teaching, acceptance, and composure. I had opportunities to work on research with a dynamic group of undergraduates, and see them move on to either the professional world or graduate school. I learned about professional decorum and conduct, the ways that good professors can help elevate students to achieve their goals, and how some students work hard to help elevate their classmates. I learned that some teaching techniques don't work for me, and others work remarkably well, and that success in the classroom isn't measured in memorized facts but in processes to acquire knowledge, and that fostering curiosity in students is a big win. I found that some students will always find reasons to dislike a professor or a class or a subject, while others take advantage of every opportunity to push themselves outside their academic comfort zones and learn something new. I laughed, cried, hurt, and hoped with students that I came to know as friends. I learned about academic turfdoms and egotism, but also worked with exemplary professors who provided models of patience and grace. For every metaphorical fire that I encountered, there was a balm, and with every day that passed I discovered more about becoming an effective teacher. 

As of June 30, 2021, I will no longer be the lab coordinator and adjunct professor in Biology at the oldest college west of the Alleghenies. 

Transylvania University will always be an important part of my education, even though I was by definition a teacher at this storied institution in my home state, I discovered that I remained a student. The lessons I learned and skills I developed there won't soon be forgotten. I'll take them with me into my new role as an 8th grade science teacher at East Jessamine Middle School. 

It's a new adventure, one that I'm excited to embark upon! 

Father's Day

I am a new father.

My wife and I adopted a baby girl. She’s three weeks old!

This was my first Father’s Day.

It used to be a day mired in complex feelings and emotions, a day that I eventually became indifferent to. This is a fact that I continue to struggle with. 

I spent some time today considering what it means to be a father, and to be a parent. I ran across this quote and I like it a lot.

“Dads are mostly ordinary men turned by love into heroes, adventurers, storytellers and singers of song.” - Pamela Brown

 That's what I want to be.

Spring Hiking

 “The trail is the thing, not the end of the trail. Travel too fast, and you miss all you are traveling for.”

― Louis L'Amour

 Hiking a well worn trail is meditative. Don't worry so much about the direction you're walking, let the trail decide. Get swept away from worries and enjoy the sights and sounds of nature. The water trickling down the creek and the birds singing their songs in the boughs overhead accompany you as you wander away from your concerns for a bit. It's therapeutic, and for me things always seem to be a little less stressful after a few hours on the trail. And you might even meet some friendly faces on the trail, an unexpected surprise!

Spring and fall are the best times of the year for hiking. The weather is just right, with a cool breeze and warm sun shining down. The colors of the spring wildflowers or autumn leaves enhance the scenery of the trail. This year, there was a late freeze that might have had an impact on flowers this spring, but last year they were beautiful. This hike was on March 27, 2020 at Raven Run, just before the park began restricting access due to the pandemic. I hope we can go back soon to see how things look a year later!

My favorite hiking partner and the prettiest flower on the trail!

 

 

We saw Luke and Ben as they were leaving!

I love the sound of water trickling down the rocks.

 

 

Trillium

Duchman's Breeches

Phlox - Look at the bee fly coming in for a landing!

Phlox and trillium

Twinleaf

Trout lily

An Old Pocket Knife, Part Three

Imagine hearing that you were expecting your first grandchild, a boy, and that you were so excited that you wanted to get your grandson something he could use for the rest of his life, something that he might remember you by. Something that ran alongside your interests. A pocket knife! And so it was that my Papaw June bought me a pocket knife before I could crawl. I had heard about this pocket knife for most of my life, a pocket knife with a green handle that my papaw bought me when I was a baby, to the extent that it had become legendary to me. I wasn't allowed to have the knife yet, so it came into the safe keeping of my Papaw Oak. There it stayed in his knife roll with the rest of his collection, waiting for the right time. Waiting for me to be old enough. 

That time came last fall. I was spending the afternoon with mom at the cabin in Elliott County, and had been thinking about this particular knife for some time. I asked her if I could see it, and the rest of Papaw Oak's knife collection, and she told me the story of the Old Boker Knife, which I wrote about here. 

I asked mom, "Is one of these the one Papaw June bought me when I was born?" 

Mom's eyes scanned the knives, one by one. One of the knives in the roll had some corrosion on the surface of the blades, a faded, cracked handle that looked green with Buck Creek stamped on the side. A Congress knife, with four small blades that folded down and met in the middle. 

"I think that's it." Mom said. She pulled it from the knife roll and handed it to me. 

I opened the blades, testing them with my thumb. The first one I tried was as sharp as a razor! I closed the blades, ran my thumb along the handles like I watched mom do with the Boker, and bounced it in my hand. It was a small pocket knife, but it felt amazing to see it and hold it. It represented something very special to me, the love of both of my grandfathers. One who bought it and envisioned me carrying it, and the other who held on to it for me. I felt like I had waited my whole life for this moment. But I struggled with whether I should take it with me. 

"Maybe it belongs here, in Papaw Oak's collection," I told Mom.

Mom smiled. "Take it with you. It's right where it belongs now," she replied.

I put it in my pocket, alongside my red Case canoe knife. It's with my small pocket knife collection now. I learned that the handle is made from celluloid, and that over time these handles tend to crack and release trace amounts of nitric acid, which can cause corrosion of the blades and even nearby knives if they're kept in close proximity. So I keep it separate from my other pocket knives, and I have plans to clean and restore the blades. Maybe someday I'll carry it with me, like my Papaw June and Papaw Oak both reckoned that I might. 

An Old Pocket Knife, Part Two

Just An Old Boker Knife is a story my mom wrote for her blog, and that I've heard iterations of it a few times in my life. It's one of those family legends, you see. We all have them. Maybe it's tied to some legendary deeds performed by a forebearer, or an ingenious object that was made by hand for a specific purpose. The last time mom told me about the Boker knife was last fall. We were at the cabin where she and Gene share their lives, on the upper porch. I had asked mom if I could see Papaw Oak's knife collection, and specifically I wanted to look at another knife that I'll write about soon. Mom got out an old knife roll. She pointed to one and then another as memories began pouring out. My mom is a natural storyteller, and seeing the Boker knife was the cue that it was time to tell the story. 

Rather than re-tell it word for word, I'll just say that my favorite part of the story of this old pocket knife, that Paw Huff said you probably couldn't get 5 dollars for, is the way it returns to its owner each time. Unexpectedly, at suppertime, when a person's mind is adrift with thoughts from the day and plans for tomorrow as your body begins to relax from a day of hard work and you fill your belly with good food from the table. When mom told the story, she demonstrated the way Papaw Oak looked at the knife, the way his thumbs appraised the handles, and the way he bounced it in his hands. I love that this reflected the way the knife returned to my great-grandfather. The way she told it brought me back to that moment with her. I picked up the knife, bounced it in my hand, and felt the true weight of the knife wasn't necessarily due to its mass, but the memories of my papaw and great-grandfather connected to it.

The story goes on from the end of mom's blog post, after she had the knife repaired and handles replaced for Papaw Oak. For Christmas in 2015, mom gave my brother Kevin and I each a tobacco stick from our papaw's farm, that our papaw and his father rived by hand. Embedded in them, just above our initials, are the original handles from the old Boker knife. They came to us unexpectedly, just after suppertime. They connect us to this nearly 100 year long story, that began with our great-grandfather, continued with our grandfather, and resonated so strongly with our mom. I don't remember Paw Huff, but I miss my Papaw Oak and I wish I could talk to both of them and hear some more stories from them. Whenever I see the tobacco stick with the old Boker knife handle embedded within, I feel like I'm looking at a relic of significance that ties me to my family and my roots that extend deep into those eastern Kentucky hills. And that, to me, is worth more than $5.00. 

Christmas 2015, tobacco sticks and the old Boker knife handles embedded inside, thanks to Mark Eclov.