COA Magazine Spring 2015 by College of the Atlantic

COA

THE COLLEGE OF THE ATL ANTIC MAG A ZINE Volume 11 . Number 1 . Spring 2015

UNCONVENTIONAL ANGLES

COA The College of the Atlantic Magazine

Unconventional Angles Letter from the President

News from Campus

Watson Report • Anouk de Fontaine '14

UNCONVENTIONAL ANGLES: HUMAN ECOLOGY IN PRACTICE

A Classroom without Walls • The Great West Course

Field, Story, & Studio: Classic COA Classes Scouring the Waters • Chris Petersen

Nature of Narrative • Karen Waldron

A Lasting Impact • Ernie McMullen

To Samsø and Beyond

The Community School of Mount Desert Island

Drawn Diaries • Valerie Giles '88

Unconventional Angles • Khristian Mendez '15

Leaders of the Track • The Human Ecology of Blocking and Jamming

Seeking Light • Paul Grabhorn ('81)

"The Water Cycle" • Eloise Schultz '16

"Footsteps" • Lea Bushman '15

Alumni Notes

Donor Profile • Martie Samek

Community Notes

Plant Ecology and Evolution in Harsh Environments • Book Excerpt

In Memoriam

The Bagel Hole • Agnes Smit

Summer Events at COA

Sam Allen '16 walks through a solar array on Denmark's carbon-negative Samsø Island during the European portion of the fall "monster course" on energy and islands. What is a monster course, you ask? It's one, focused—monster—class combining all three of a term's credits. See page 19. Photo by Paige Nygaard '17. COA indicates non-degree alumni by a parenthesis around their year.

COA The College of the Atlantic Magazine Volume 11 · Number 1 · Spring 2015

Editorial

Editor Editorial Guidance Editorial Consultant Alumni Consultants

Design

Art Director

Donna Gold Heather Albert-Knopp '99 Shlomit Auciello '17 Rich Borden Dru Colbert Darron Collins '92 Dave Feldman Jennifer Hughes Kate Macko Lauren Rupp '05 Eloise Schultz '16 Zach Soares '00 Josh Winer '91 Bill Carpenter Jill Barlow-Kelley Dianne Clendaniel

Rebecca Hope Woods

COA Administration President Academic Dean Associate Academic Deans Administrative Dean Dean of Admission Dean of Institutional Advancement Dean of Student Life

Darron Collins '92 Kenneth Hill Catherine Clinger Stephen Ressel Sean Todd Karen Waldron Andrew Griffiths Heather Albert-Knopp '99 Lynn Boulger Sarah Luke

COA Board of Trustees Becky Baker Dylan Baker Timothy Bass Ronald E. Beard Leslie C. Brewer Alyne Cistone Nikhit D'Sa '06 Lindsay Davies Beth Gardiner Amy Yeager Geier Elizabeth Hodder H. Winston Holt IV Philip B. Kunhardt III '77 Anthony Mazlish

Suzanne Folds McCullagh Linda McGillicuddy Jay McNally '84 Stephen G. Milliken Philip S.J. Moriarty Phyllis Anina Moriarty Lili Pew Hamilton Robinson, Jr. Nadia Rosenthal Marthann Samek Henry L.P. Schmelzer Stephen Sullens William N. Thorndike, Jr. Cody van Heerden, MPhil '15

Life Trustees William G. Foulke, Jr. Samuel M. Hamill, Jr. John N. Kelly Susan Storey Lyman William V.P. Newlin John Reeves Henry D. Sharpe, Jr.

Trustee Emeriti David Hackett Fischer George B.E. Hambleton Sherry F. Huber Helen Porter Cathy L. Ramsdell '78 John Wilmerding

The faculty, students, trustees, staff, and alumni of College of the Atlantic envision a world where people value creativity, intellectual achievement, and diversity of nature and human cultures. With respect and compassion, individuals construct meaningful lives for themselves, gain appreciation of the relationships among all forms of life, and safeguard the heritage of future generations.

COA is published biannually for the College of the Atlantic community. Please send ideas, letters, and submissions (short stories, poetry, and revisits to human ecology essays) to: COA Magazine, College of the Atlantic 105 Eden Street, Bar Harbor, ME 04609 dgold@coa.edu

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From the Editor Unconventional Angles: Human ecology in practice Often when I think of human ecology, it is in romantic terms. I imagine the all-encompassing sweep of an arm, the slow turning of an entire planet, the cycles of seasons or of water as rain flows into rivers and evaporates, the interdependency of creatures. Not long ago, I read this passage in the human ecology essay of Caroline Powers '15 and thought, yes! this is it: It starts with a dance around the edge. … All around and within, there are golden lights alive. They are beings or ideas or moments or spaces—with births and existences and deaths. As they flicker and shine and fade, they are moving as well. At times they swim alone, swim together, swim by each other, or into each other. Meanwhile, I was also reading the piece Khristian Mendez '15 submitted to this issue, exploring the challenging questions that community members so often experience from students, faculty, staff members, alumni—questions that change us so that nothing again is precisely what it had seemed. Khristian titled his piece "Unconventional Angles" and (after speaking with him) I realized it characterized this entire issue, and caused me to reexamine my own sense of human ecology. Maybe human ecology is not only about a flow of inclusion but also a series of probing illuminations aimed at campus from all angles—flares of lightening reaching into our minds. Through human ecology, students learn to listen, to converse, and especially to consider alternatives, but mostly, they learn to question. Even as the study of human ecology attempts to fashion an entirety out of the cloth of our universe, to reveal the connections, as Caroline's essay implies, it also pierces our comfort with that connectivity. This vision challenges us to come at problems from various approaches, pushing some of us into war zones with our cameras, others onto roller derby rinks using our bodies as battering rams (don't miss that article—it's a great one!), our teachers into 24/7 classes for weeks at a time, and our students to field questions from numerous—and unconventional—angles.

— Donna Gold, editor

Correction: In the Fall 2014 article on the work of Nancy Andrews, we omitted credit to Zach Soares '00. Zach co-composed much of the music in Nancy's first feature film, The Strange Eyes of Dr. Myes. Cover: Untitled by Valerie Giles '88, graphite, colored pencil, and gouache on tinted paper, 9 x 12 inches, 2007 (see page 24). Back Cover: Somes Landing Dawn by Ernest McMullen, oil on board, 33 x 48 inches, 2014 (see page 17).

From the President President Darron Collins '92 snapped this selfie at the Museum of Art and Design in New York City in March with artist Richard Estes (center), and Ernie McMullen (far right).

COA editor Donna Gold has been hounding me to finish up this letter. My delay stems neither from procrastination nor forgetfulness. Unconventional Angles has thrown a real wrench into my machine. What's the thread? Where's the theme? How to tie things together with a nice, pretty bow? Roller derby, bagels, and wilderness in the West? I'm as guilty as anyone. Humans by some cognitive default adore the process and product of taxonomizing, organizing, prioritizing, and otherwise trying to simplify the world's complexity. Such reductionism is one way to understand how the world works and how human beings move through it. Human ecology asks us to fight that tendency and, even for a president and alumnus of a school of human ecology, bucking the deep-seated drive to order a chaotic environment has been difficult for me in this case. But, as is so often the case, writing through the blockage has been reaffirming. Forcing such abstinence on order is a psychological calisthenic I highly recommend. Consider the following pages an obstacle course for such an exercise. Read them without patternrecognizing glasses. Read them not to uncover a logic between personality, coursework at the college, and work after the college. Read them for the quality and diversity of ideas and for the inherent beauty within complexity itself. Become comfortable with the

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uncomfortable complexity of what's in your head and outside your body. I had the privilege to partake in another such calisthenic: during winter term 2015 I was able to "audit" Ernie McMullen's last class in 2-D Design: Drawing with graphite, ink, and charcoal. I bound the audit of the last sentence in air quotes because I managed to attend only about half the classes and complete half the assignments. After over four decades of dedication to this institution, Ernie McMullen has retired from teaching (see page 17). The class never asked us to abandon order, but it certainly demanded we reorient our understanding of the way the world appears in three-dimensional space when trying to compress those dimensions onto a piece of paper. I wish I could bottle that experience and douse everyone's morning coffee with it. It was one of the most remarkable learning experiences I've ever had. Ernieâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;you will be missed! By executive order and I hereby dedicate Unconventional Angles to our own Ernie McMullen!

Darron Collins '92, PhD, president

NEWS FROM CAMPUS DECEMBER COA receives Maine Preservation's 2014 Honor Award for Rehabilitation for our work restoring The Turrets. A presentation on the impact of collaboration in two Yucatan fishing villages by Pablo Aguilera del Castillo '15 is selected as one of three "exemplary" undergraduate posters at the 2014 American Anthropological Association Annual Meetings in Washington, DC.

JANUARY Strange Eyes of Dr. Myes, faculty member Nancy Andrews' first feature film, premieres at the Rotterdam International Film Festival, known for its indie and innovative films. Indiewire calls the film gorgeous and deliciously weird. Enhancing the COA presence at the Dutch festival is Jennifer Prediger '00, appearing in both Strange Eyes and Valedictorian. A design by Arika (Bready) von Edler '12 is chosen by MOFGA, Maine Organic Farmers and Gardeners Association, for the 2015 Common Ground Country Fair poster.

FEBRUARY Naomi Klein, author of This Changes Everything (which quotes Anjali Appadurai '13 in the introduction), is picked by COA seniors as their graduation speaker. She accepts. As a result of COA's 24-Hour Challenge, the college receives 810 gifts and nets $68,711 in an intense 24-hour marathon of fund raising. During one of the coldest weeks in February, when temperatures range from -4°F to a couple of brief 4

forays to 33°F, and averaging 14°F, COA residence halls engaged in a hot competition to reduce energy usage. The winner is Seafox, which lowers usage by a whopping 18%. Overall, residences are down by 8%, proving, say organizers, that it can be done!

BABY BELTED GALLOWAYS WELCOMED AT PEGGY ROCKEFELLER FARMS

MARCH Twelve students spend half their spring break at Mount Desert Island Biological Laboratory tracking the development of sea urchins and analyzing genetic samples as part of an annual molecular genetics workshop offered to COA students.

DORR MUSEUM CELEBRATES SPRING WITH AN EGG-STRAVAGANZA FOR CHILDREN

APRIL COA President Darron Collins '92 meets with the community to hear about strengths, weaknesses, how we stand out, how our interdisciplinarity works, and other questions, all to create our new strategic plan, called the MAP. Eliza Oldach '17 receives a Fulbright Scholarship to New Zealand for her project, A New Lens for Coastal Conservation: Developing and Applying the Habitat Cascade Theory.

ROC CAIVANO, EX-FACULTY, PAINTS ASHLEY BRYAN AS ASHLEY'S BLUM EXHIBIT CLOSES

The Princeton Review's annual ranking of sustainable colleges and universities places COA at #8.

MAY Khristian Mendez '15 presents a staged reading of his senior project play, The Floor is Yours, an inquiry into the many aspects of the United Nations' environmental governance system. Senior project shows abound in the Ethel H. Blum Gallery as one of many means of displaying work to the public. Exhibits range from a multimedia look at Detroit's venerable women to explorations of voice and vulnerability.

EARTH DAY AT COLLEGE OF THE ATLANTIC

FANDANGO SUPPORTS NEPAL— FUNDS GO TO DIYALO FOUNDATION

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Doreen Stabinsky's Zennström lecture can be found at http://media.medfarm.uu.se/ play/video/4851. Photo by Niclas Hällström, What Next Forum, Uppsala, Sweden.

DOREEN STABINSKY inaugurates Swedish climate change role When Sweden's Uppsala University—considered one of the world's top educational institutions—created a visiting professorship in climate change, COA's own Doreen Stabinsky was chosen to inaugurate the position. Partly, she was picked for her expertise on the impact of climate change on agriculture and food security, and her work advising governments and international environmental organizations on agriculture and climate change. But partly, too, the choice was about Doreen's focus on students. The Zennström Visiting Professorship in Climate Change Leadership (funded by Skype founder and Uppsala alumnus Niklas Zennström) was inspired by students who longed for greater transdisciplinary research and collaboration when dealing with climate change. Student connection is so important to the position that when Eva Åkesson, Uppsala's vice chancellor, introduced Doreen at the first annual Zennström lecture last March, Eva spoke of Doreen's background, of course, but also her "international reputation for her work with students, enabling them to be active participants in the global environmental political arenas." Doreen is spending the year connecting with scientists, social scientists, graduate students, and undergraduates at Uppsala and the nearby Swedish University of Agricultural Sciences, but she won't ignore COA. Currently, she's teaching French Food Politics and European Political Institutions in the Vichy, France term FIND MORE STORIES AND PHOTOS AT NEWS.COA.EDU

abroad with faculty member Ken Cline. Come fall, via Skype, she'll again prepare COA students to be effective youth leaders at the upcoming Conference of the Parties (COP) to the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change in Paris. Meanwhile, Doreen will create a similar delegation from Uppsala. Following the December COP, COA students will head north to Uppsala to spend some time with their Swedish peers answering the question, "What's next?" Uppsala is fascinated by COA, says Doreen. "Students in Uppsala are eager to be more active participants in their education. People here are really excited about having COA students come," she adds. "I gave a talk about COA and its pedagogy—after my talk they were even more excited." As COA faculty member in global environmental politics, agricultural policy, and international studies, Doreen has been instrumental in preparing delegations of students in the language, issues, and proposals of UN climate meetings. As a result, COA students have become so comfortable with the details of these meetings, and are so passionate about the issues, that they, and their organization Earth in Brackets, frequently take leadership positions in the international youth effort on climate change. And today's youth, says Doreen, "are not just future climate leaders; they are already leading the way, advocating for and implementing changes needed to address climate change."

NEWS EXCERPTS FROM A TRAVELING JOURNAL Anouk de Fontaine '14, Watson Fellow Anouk de Fontaine '14 received a Watson Fellowship to explore dance in various locales around the world. Through her project, Dance as Medicine: Looking at Dance as a Tool for Community Healing, Anouk is seeking to shape a dance form that can assist personal and communal recovery. Born and raised in Belgium, Anouk came to COA after attending the Lester B. Pearson United World College of the Pacific in Victoria, British Columbia, Canada. English was her fourth language; Portuguese is her sixth.

NOVEMBER 10, 2014 Trust: Trust is not an easy thing to receive, to be awarded. Confiança they call it here. I have been living in Rio de Janeiro now for several months. On the day I arrived, I was already dancing in a local feira, Feira de São Cristóvão. On the second day, I was joining a ballroom dancing class in the favela near my house. The class has been meeting three times a week since then, the third of August, for three hours each session. We have become a community, sharing meals, beers, and meeting each other outside of class to go to parties. However, genuine trust, confiança, has only been awarded to me by very few—if any—of the sixty people who form that group. Surprising? Not really. Being obviously gringa, female, and doing a project that sometimes seems to lack structure and sounds fictive, would lead many to be dubious of the real reason for my presence here. But frustrating, yes. Communication: Already complicated in one's own language. Between what I am trying to say and what you are understanding, much can be misinterpreted. When cultures—Belgium and Brazil—talk as well, communication takes on this invisible dimension. Confusion is frequent. Connection: How do you enter a culture? I have been staying with 6

From what to wear to how loud I should speak, this Cuiabana (woman from the north of Brazil) has taken my hand to guide me through my experience in Rio.

NOVEMBER 28, 2014

Anouk de Fontaine '14 with Sandra Ferreira Mendez de Azevedo, the woman she calls her Brazilian mother.

a mother, her husband, and her daughter from a previous union, in a bairro called Estácio, near the center of the city. I am the first person they have rented a room to. I have learned so much from a minha mãe brasileirai, my Brazilian mum. She makes her home a place full of her energy. The home is humble; she comes from a workingclass family. She is not well, but she is so courageous, good, and has a love for life and for connection with people that is contagious. Cooking food: "Only when you are inspired," my Brazilian mother says. "Food has to be cooked with love. When the woman of the house is not inspired, when she is not feeling good about the household, she cannot cook. And so she should not."

Dance: Both my dance activities and the work I help out with at a center for individuals with special needs have made me full and happy. I have been studying capoeira, a sixteenthcentury martial art combining dance, acrobatics, and music that was created in Brazil by African slaves; dancing with a new company from the favela; and volunteering at a physiotherapy center. Physiotherapy gives me a new perspective on movement, muscles, the brain and the body— how dance as a therapy for patients with cerebral palsy is so different from dance as therapy for children with autism, for example. Things Brazilians, particularly Cariocas (Brazilians from Rio) offer: How to enjoy life, celebrate life, connect with people, feast, never feel alone, always smile, go out, enjoy the little things—a beer with a friend in the street, a Saturday afternoon at the beach, a Sunday morning running kites in the park. And the noise, always the loud noise, just in case someone would think of feeling lonely among the permanent vibration of life around them. How can I really learn this alegria, this joy of life? And then carry it with me everywhere I go?

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NEWS

DECEMBER 3, 2014 The moment you get your first discount at the local fruit market because merchants recognize you, you have become their amiga. You get extra fruits, specialties made just for you, and you are sent home with good wishes for the others living in your household. The moment you start getting ready at the time you said you were going to meet someone at the other end of the city. The moment you realize you don't really remember all the things that you found so different, strange and peculiar about the place when you first arrived. You try hard to remember, but you only recall the vague feeling of finding things different. The moment you perceive co-living with cockroaches as normal. The moment you realize the shootings you hear on a regular basis in the favela near your house have become routine. Scary, but you hope your local family can tell when really you should worry. The moment you start looking at visiting Europeans in the metro as a mainstream Brazilian woman would: skeletal, no butt, whitetransparent, arrogant, ignorant, too serious, wrong fashion style, money confidence, but hey … nice hair.

Top: While in Brazil, Anouk spent time at an orphanage. "One day," she says, "I realized the children's portraits had never been drawn. I am not good at drawing, but I took one class at COA and I thought I could try. The young man, Anderson, cried. He had never been looked at so deeply and observed so carefully." Photo by Andre Hawk/+5521. Bottom: Anouk (on right) danced with several groups while in Brazil, including this one, Origem. Except as noted, photos courtesy of Anouk de Fontaine '14.

The moment you manage to samba like a passista alone in your room. Nobody saw, but you know you just got it. It is in you. You will be able to do it again.

The moment you cannot remember how you could end a meal without coffee or spend a day without eating feijão.

The moment you can hold a whole smart conversation in the local language and people think you are from the south of Brazil. Not from outside of Brazil.

The moment your coffee-making gets approved by locals.

The moment you sing an entire samba song at a samba school

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without looking at the lyrics on the page they give you! These moments are precious. They are my testimonies; the steps of a choreography called meu Brasil, "my Brazil." By tuning in to the melody of a people, of a place, We learn. By dancing, we practice.

ALAN'S SHOP Story and photo by Galen Hecht '17 On Bar Harbor's Cedar Avenue, a handsome red house trimmed in white stands dwarfed beside the doors of a two-story, timberframed barn painted to match. In the morning, a steady stream of smoke wisps out the barn's chimney and the sound of power tools echoes along the street. Alan DeCheubell is in his shop. A master woodcraftsman, Alan built the house and barn himself out of reclaimed wood. The first floor of the barn is packed with stock lumber and old gadgets; it emanates the comfortable aroma of pine and spruce. A Rangeley boat is parked beside the storage racks; the hensâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;Alan's girlsâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;cluck away in their coop on the side wall. Everything has a purpose and a story. The heart of 16 Cedar lies upstairs. The woodshop is equipped with an old twenty-fourinch yellow planer, a jointer, table saw, radial saw, and the custom duplicator lathe that Alan designed and built with a five-speed Toyota transmission. The walls are hung with drawings of boats and airplanes; small drifts of sawdust are packed into the corners. Ruthie, Alan's little white dog, barks a welcome to visitors from her chair by the woodstove as Alan calls, 8

"Ruthie, be nice," his eyes bright behind gold, round-rim glasses. Alan manages the bustling shop with calculated strategies, taking the time to ensure that all the details of a project are in place before he moves on to the next step. When he's in action, it's a sight to see: focused and quick, he'll leap up on the counter to pull a strip of hot wood from the steam bender before hopping down to wrap the piece quickly around a mold, soon to be the fitting for a door's glass pane. Typically Alan has a student assistant helping to measure and run various machines. At first, one might not understand why such an able craftsman needs an assistant, but after a few minutes with him it becomes clear: Alan is blind. Alan's twenty-five-year career working for carpenters around Mount Desert Island, including thirteen years managing the AB and JR Hodgkins' woodshop, ended in 2007 when he couldn't read for his bad eyes. But Alan persevered. Even as he was losing his sight, he built the house and barn and started his own custom woodworking business. In place of hand-eye coordination, Alan relies on his well-tuned spatial awareness. In the shop he is agile

and can navigate every familiar nook and cranny. He uses his hands to feel the wood; what most see with their eyes, he interprets with his hands. His projects are complex and unique. Best of all, he is eager to share what he knows. Currently, Alan is a visiting professor at COA, teaching the course Building a Skin-onFrame Kayak: Introduction to Woodworking. Eight students are learning about practical mathematics, design, small business, and woodworking. Each one will leave with their own handmade boat and a quiver of skills for future jobs. An educator's role is to share methods and ideas with a vision, with or without sight. Not only does Alan teach what he knows, he demonstrates that with willpower, generosity, and a willingness to adapt, setbacks are no more than an opportunity to embark on new adventures. Galen Hecht '17 began working with Alan DeCheubell as an assistant in the spring of 2014; he did an independent study in traditional boatbuilding last fall. This spring, together with Alan and Marc Fawcett-Atkinson '18, Galen developed the boatbuilding course.

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NEWS DIOS BO'OTIK—THANK YOU Projects for Peace

Palmi García, Cindy Orozco, Becca Haydu '16, and Anai May in Yaxkukul. Palmi and Anai will join the summer's cultural center. Photo courtesy of Becca

Haydu '16.

In 2007, to celebrate her hundredth birthday, the late philanthropist Kathryn W. Davis committed one million dollars to fund one hundred student-led projects with the hope of generating peace within the world. This summer, Becca Haydu '16 is among her beneficiaries. She has been awarded $10,000 from the ongoing Projects for Peace fund to help establish a Yucatec Maya cultural center in Yaxkukul, outside of Merida, the capital of Mexico's Yucatán. She is working with leaders of the fledgling Centro Cultural RealizArte, who seek to promote local traditional culture. Becca came to know this center while studying Spanish and

Yucatec Mayan in the Yucatán for six months with visiting lecturer Karla Peña. Alongside the two RealizArte leaders, Becca will help establish a summer performance arts program for youth, with daily workshops in theater, music, and Mayan culture. Themes will change by the week. When focused on music, for example, there will be workshops on learning and writing Mayan lyrics, playing pre-Hispanic instruments, and studying other traditional musical forms. The summer will culminate in performances designed by the students with the goal of stimulating an ongoing arts program in Yaxkukul.

COA's New OUTLANDS Journal "How can peace and stability be promoted amidst conflict and globalization?" That's the question posed by the editors of the second issue of Outlands, a journal of foreign affairs launched in spring 2014 by Ursa Beckford '17 and ten other COA students. The idea began when Ursa, nephew to Craig Greene, the late faculty member in biology, visited as a prospective student. Ursa wondered whether there was a foreign affairs group on campus. "Start one," he was told. And so this homeschooled student, raised without a television in Clifton, Maine, began the Council on Foreign Affairs, or COFA, along with the journal. Now in its second year, COFA meets to discuss issues and edit the journal, and also hosts weekly presentations on international issues—both

on campus and in town at Jesup Memorial Library. Journals on foreign affairs abound, but Outlands has a special perspective: it's the voice of Ursa's generation. "I wasn't seeing a lot of analysis on global issues conducive to the world I want to live in," says Ursa. "We hope to create a space for new thought and better analysis to confront the challenges of our time." These challenges, he adds, "are so extreme that people sometimes feel they have nothing to offer. But young people do have good, strong ideas on these topics." Outlands editors seek submissions from COA and beyond. Next up: "Borders + Boundaries." Asks upcoming editor Leah Kovich, "What borders and boundaries have you faced, overcome, or succumbed to in the world foreign to you? Such walls

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(personal, social, ethnic, cultural, lingual, physical, political) permeate all human interactions—how do we confront the lines that divide us?" For more, and for subscription details, visit outlandsjournal.org.

Unconventional Angles H U M A N E CO LO G Y I N P R A C T I CE 10

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A COA EDUCATION IS

â&#x20AC;Śin the words of current students

dynamic unique awesome meaningful enriching timeless passionate thought-provoking personalized affordable self-directed immersive muddy (literally) and full of once-in-a-lifetime opportunities A COA education is life. It is more than academics, More than preparing for a career. It is learning constantly on all frontsâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;academic, emotional, personal, universal.

With thanks to Shlomit Auciello '17, Ursa Beckford '17, Christi Beddiges '18, Roman Bina '16, Julie Bowser '17, Alyssa Coleman '16, Izik Dery '17, Maria Hagen '17, Emily Hollyday '15, Kiera O'Brien '18, Lilyanna Sollberger '16, and Mari Thiersch '18. This page: Ken Cline and Zinta Rutins '15 work a two-person crosscut saw to remove a fallen tree in the wilderness of Yosemite National Park. Following page: Participants in the Great West course: from left, Arianna Rambach '16, Anneke Hart '16, Meaghan Lyon '16, Kristin Ober '16, faculty member Ken Cline, Chris Phillips '15, Erickson Smith '15, Zinta Rutins '15, Madeleine Motley '16. Photos by faculty member John Anderson.

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A Classroom Without Walls: The Great West Course By Michael Diaz-Griffith '09 For John Muir, father of America's conservation movement, the Sierra Nevadas were the "range of light," a wonderland of celestial effects: noonday radiance, Alpine sunsets and "the irised spray of countless waterfalls." For students in last fall's field-based three-credit course on the American West, this range of light was a classroom. Whether reading aloud from John Muir's account of the Tuolumne Meadows (while in the Tuolumne Meadows), volunteering with wilderness managers in Yosemite National Park, or spending the weekend visiting a local ranching family with divergent views on environmental politics, students saw the American West in its own light, impossible to do from a classroom in Maine. "We wanted to immerse the students in the culture, landscape, and natural history of the West, 12

and to see how those things played out in terms of public policy and management decisions," says John Anderson, faculty member in biology, who organized the course with Ken Cline, faculty member in environmental law and policy. "Most of the students had spent little or no time west of the Mississippi; we wanted to make sure that they got a good sense from the first that they were in another country." Signing up for a three-credit "monster course" means dedicating a whole term's learning to one topic, but understanding it from myriad angles. One could say that students studied ecology and natural history with John, public policy and the wilderness with Ken, and the literature of the American West with both, but in truth there was never any separation by disciplines. In the best traditions of human ecology, learning extended to every hour of the day and proliferated in all directions. Beginning in California, the class trekked eastward into the Great Basin Desert, south to Yosemite National Park and the

Hetch Hetchy Valley, then across the Sonoran Desert and through the canyonlands of Utah to Albuquerque, New Mexico, where they participated in a conference celebrating the first fifty years of the Wilderness Act. Says Erickson Smith '15, "From the very first day we were taking detailed natural history notes, not only of the animal and plant species that we saw, but about how these were distributed across the 4,000-mile track that we traversed, the weather, the topography and geology of the landscape, the presence or absence of water, and more." At each stage of the journey, the class met with government agency personnel, activists, nonprofit staffers, ranchers, scientists, nature poets, and alumni active in wilderness management and related fields. In Nevada, at Pyramid Lake, they met with Paiute tribal managers; at Mono Lake, they met with the activists who saved the lake some twenty years ago. Says Anneke Hart '16, "The Mono Lake Committee was moved that a bunch of twenty-somethings knew COLLEGE OF THE ATLANTIC MAGAZINE

about and cared about their efforts to save the lake." There, poet and environmental activist Gary Snyder gave an impromptu reading. Playing off the unique history, landscape, culture, and political reality of each setting, different themes were explored along the way: in the Cadillac Desert, part of the infamous Death Valley, the class focused on land development and water policy, a subject starkly conveyed by a trip to Hoover Dam, according to John. As Ken wrote for the COA News website, "Water defines the West. Nowhere is this more true than with a small fish that exists in isolated pools in Death Valley and the Mojave Desert. In the field with California Department of Fish and Wildlife fisheries biologist Steve Parmenter, the class surrounded a small, warm spring pool where most of the surviving Shoshone pupfish in the world live. This ghost of the Pleistocene was thought extinct, but following state, federal, and private efforts, the population is now over four hundred—but all in this one tiny pool." Later the class joined the biologist in sealing a leak that was dewatering habitat for the highly endangered Amargosa vole. Before dinner each night, the group reflected on the expedition, discussing passages from, say, the field journal of explorer John C. Frémont—or their own field journals. Over the course of a few weeks, the quality of their insights deepened significantly. Says Erickson, "Having six weeks to explore such different, but abutting, landscapes allowed us to notice distribution patterns and make connections that we probably wouldn't have made in a shorter amount of time or with a quicker form of transportation." The literary component, including conservationist Terry Tempest Williams' Red, an impassioned plea for the preservation of the Canyonlands, Edward Abbey's controversial essay collection, The Serpents of Paradise, and Joan Didion's Slouching Towards COLLEGE OF THE ATLANTIC MAGAZINE

Bethlehem, provided its own kind of depth. By the time they arrived in Albuquerque for the National Wilderness Conference, says John, the students were "clearly aware of the meaning and importance of material that would have been mysterious six weeks earlier," material that gets to the heart of today's most pressing debates about land conservation, water policy, and wilderness advocacy and management in the West. There, students discussed their work with some of the nation's top wilderness experts, meeting Terry Tempest Williams, whom they had just read and discussed, along with radical activist Dave Foreman, co-founder of Earth First. For Anneke, a highlight of the conference was, "knowing what Dave Foreman meant when he told a story about being chased by a musk ox in Alaskan backcountry and realizing that that wouldn't be a bad way to die." Six weeks earlier, she says, she might not have laughed—or understood. The theme of the course was echoed in the keynote address by Secretary of the Interior Sally Jewell, who said, "We all know that the best classrooms have no walls." Ken emphasizes the point: "We taught this class in this 'best classroom' and were able to do things that we could never have accomplished back at COA." Agrees Anneke, "This course helped remind me why it's worth going through the struggle of higher education: there is life beyond reading about what happens in the world while you're stuck inside." Michael Diaz-Griffith '09 is the assistant director of New York's Winter Antiques Show. He and his husband, Alonso Diaz Rickards '12, live in New York City.

Past Monster Classes 2014 Made in Italy: Intercultural Encounters in the Veneto (Heath Cabot, Salvatore Poier)

2013 The Unexpected Journey: Art, Literature, and History on the Road in Nuevo Mexico (Catherine Clinger, Karen Waldron)

2013 Guatemala

(Todd and Christa Little-Siebold)

2010/ongoing Spring in Vichy, France (various faculty)

2009/10 UK, Germany: Our Daily Bread: Following Grains through the Food System (Suzanne Morse, Molly Anderson)

2009 The Maine Woods

(Ken Cline, Steve Ressel, Bonnie Tai, Tonia Kittelson, MPhil '11)

2006 Guatemala

(Todd and Christa Little-Siebold, David Camp)

2005 Tobago: Tropical Marine Ecology (Ken Cline, Helen Hess, Chris Petersen)

2005 Art & Community in the South Carolina Lowlands

(Dru Colbert, Tora Johnson, MPhil '03)

2001 Plants and Animals in Peril: Maine's Endangered Species at the George B. Dorr Museum (Dru Colbert, Steve Ressel, Rick Stevenson '93, Dianne Clendaniel)

2000 Maine to Tennessee: Rivers (Don Cass, Ken Cline, Helen Hess)

1996/ongoing Winter in Yucatán, Mexico (various faculty)

1989 New Zealand Seminar (Peter Corcoran)

1989 COA in Greece: Language, Art History, and Painting (JoAnne Carpenter)

1988 India: The Asian Journal (Bill Carpenter)

Field, Story, & Studio: Classic COA Classes

Chris Petersen and Ite Sullivan '18 unravel a net to gather specimens on Northeast Creek, near campus. Behind them are teaching assistants Devina Viswanathan '17 and Tyler Prest '16. Photo by Shlomit Auciello '17.

Scouring the Waters: Chris Petersen's Decades of Marine Biology By Shlomit Aucillo '17 Each week during the fall term, students in Chris Petersen's marine biology class don rubber boots and waders to prowl the shores of Frenchman Bay and Mount Desert Narrows. Carrying nets, buckets, and survey equipment, they follow the energetic professor whose 14

sparkling eyes and sense of humor belie his gray hair and beard. He is the first to put on a wetsuit, step into the surf, and dive into the chilly waters where students compare the similarities and differences of species of whelk, learn the relationships between the plants and animals along the shore, and gather specimens for both the touch tank in COA's George B. Dorr Museum of Natural History and for dissection and observation under the microscopes in the college's zoology laboratory. As a researcher, Chris is focused on the reproductive

behavior and biology of fish. He's especially interested in the fish of coral reefs. "This means that I have spent thousands of hours snorkeling on rocky and coral reefs from the Gulf of California to Panama in the Eastern Pacific, and throughout the Caribbean," he says. "I am, most of all, a behavioral ecologist, trying to understand why animals behave the way they do." A quest for knowledge I've come to this class as a 61-year-old undergraduate with a focus on screenwriting and an interest in gender transition COLLEGE OF THE ATLANTIC MAGAZINE

and the relationship between climate change and pandalid shrimp reproduction. These small hermaphroditic creatures are an important part of Maine's winter economy and are seeing a dramatic decrease in population. At the same time, human beings are experiencing an increase in the number of those identifying as transgender and seeking medical solutions to their dysphoria. I hoped that Chris' marine biology course would help me understand how sex change occurs in one species while I explore the impacts on communities that stem from both types of transitions. What I found was far more than what I was seeking. I wasn't alone. "Working in the cold water off Otter Cliff Point to collect algae for an ongoing research project in connection with Acadia National Park gave me an opportunity to discover that I love fieldwork," says Rose Dawson '18, whose current focus is botany. This algae study revisits the exact location of tide pools observed in the 1920s to see if or how the algal community has changed over the last century. "By reexamining the same areas for algal community composition, we could see if there were any changes that might be predicted by either climate change or species that had been introduced since the first study," Chris says. A second team, of which I was a member, spent a halfdozen mornings digging sections of cold, gritty clam flats to help local regulators determine where commercial diggers can seek future harvests. Threat assessment One of the fixtures of Chris' class is an assessment asking students at the beginning of the term to prioritize sixteen existing threats to ocean ecosystems, ranking them in terms of both concern and solvability. Chris has COLLEGE OF THE ATLANTIC MAGAZINE

been conducting this survey since he began teaching at COA twentyfour years ago; the list itself was compiled by students in his first COA marine biology class. Chris sees this list as a way of encouraging students to think about how they might want to organize their environmental efforts. "There are a million worthy things to work on right now. Which way to go is an interesting question to me," he says. After two decades, the survey has become a record of the trends of marine concerns and the changes in the perception of those threats. Currently, he says, "global climate change is the obvious one. It went from not important at all to the most important threat that students perceive." The survey begins a conversation about how students' perceptions and ranking of threats and solvability differ from those of the general population. It also becomes a mark of the impact of the course. "Being willing to change your mind after listening to one's peers and the course material is really critical," he adds. Assessment revisited At the end of the term the class reviewed its rankings, along with those made in 1995 and 2007. In 1995, climate change was ranked fifteenth out of sixteen. Of greatest concern then were oil spills—this was six years after the Exxon Valdez oil tanker hit Prince William Sound's Bligh Reef. But always, climate change was considered among the hardest problems to solve. When our class took the survey at the beginning of the term, I gave trash—inorganic waste—a ranking of thirteen. At the end of the term, I was surprised to find the class consensus ranked it as second only to climate change as a threat to marine ecosystems. My original ranking was based on my assumption that corporatesponsored activities would have a stronger influence on the quality

of the environment than would small-scale human activities. What I learned was that more than half of current marine litter comes from recreational activities on the shore, with an additional 28 to 33 percent coming from cigarette butts—such a tiny item, but the 845,000 tons of cigarette butts that end up in the ocean each year presents a huge problem. A recent survey named cigarettes as the most littered item on the nation's roads and beaches. Lexie Taylor '18 also changed her perspective on trash. "I was very shocked to see how much trash was really in the world's oceans. I did not put it that high on my threat list, but when I saw those presentations I wanted to change it. It was also really interesting to think about what made a threat more threatening, and how it could be the urgency of the threat or the severity." For Rose, the survey "showed how the less people knew about an issue, the less threatening they were likely to rank it—seeing climate change so far down the list not that long ago was an interesting discovery." Like Chris, I want to understand why animals behave the way we do. What I learned from him, in the waters off Mount Desert Island, in the bright light shining on the stage of a microscope, and in the animated discussions in our classroom, highlighted the complexity and interconnection of all of us who share the life of this earth. As I learned more about the life cycles of northern shrimp and other marine species, Chris helped me gain a deeper understanding of how our small actions radiate through our environment and our decisions have consequences that may not be recognized for generations. The relationships we build determine the future we share. Shlomit Auciello '17 is a writer and photographer from Rockland, Maine, completing her BA at COA. 15

Students gather in the year's second iteration of Karen Waldron's Nature of Narrative class, Nature of Narrative II. Clockwise from the front, Eliza Oldach '15 (back to the camera), Galen Hecht '17, Karen, Maria Alejandra Escalante '15, Micaela Clark '17, Graham Hallett '16, Omer Shamir '16, Eloise Schultz '16.

Nature of Narrative: Karen Waldron's Journey Through Consciousness By Sarah Haughn '08 Delineated in print as a tenweek class, Nature of Narrative with Karen Waldron has a felicitous tendency to persist. A COA alumna in my ninth year of the course, I continue to live in the conscious study of narrative as a way of being part of and also at times apart from what gets called the world. Nature of Narrative for me, then, is not so much a class as it is a path. While many classes provide an academic training located in a determinate period with a specific

set of materials, Nature of Narrative offers a way of departing from assumptions about periods of time and materiality, a way of, as Donna Haraway might put it, becoming-with one another and our stories. The course is the initiation of a process, of recognizing story. With Karen, students collectively listen for and compose routes of knowing and making consciousness. Through and as narrative, these routes confront normative, hegemonic discourse and provide alternative ecological practices for thinking and becoming. As Karen says, "The novel is a world-making or worldrepresenting enterprise. You can see economics, philosophy, art, social theory, literary argumentation, and science. You

can see everything in it. Novels in particular hold elements interesting to human ecology. How is the novel commenting on or embedding resource extraction, for example? You can see that is part of how a world is being built." Through Nature of Narrative, students read a dozen modern novels, ranging from Virginia Woolf to Monique Wittig, from Italo Calvino to Toni Morrison. The course supplements the novel form with theories of fictionâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;a heft of pages from Mikhail Bakhtin to Henry Louis Gates, Jr. Though, says Karen, "I'd take a novel over a theory any day." Citing scholar Barbara Christian's essay "The Race for Theory," she draws attention to the theorizing work that stories themselves do. The interplay between the

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novel and theory, Karen adds, is about "learning to read with more layers and levels and ways of thinking about reading. It opens up multiplicity, ways of conceptualizing the fact that we all inhabit and tell each other stories." Likewise, through the practice of writing a series of short papers, Nature of Narrative students become aware of the connection between narrative and narrative theory. Thoughts are stretched on the frames of the stories from which they emerge. But that is just the beginning. As Alyssa Coleman '16 says, "Nature of Narrative was not a class on how to read novels but rather a class on how to approach the reading of our worlds and realities. It changed the way in which I relate to narrative in that I shifted from thinking of a narrative as something like a short story I wrote in middle school to the very material of life that allowed me, or middle school, or writing to even exist." Both portal and practice, occurrence and occasion, the path

Nature of Narrative creates is a way of understanding how meaning gets made and how meanings make worlds. This process requires increased awareness of how one is conscious, as well as what constitutes consciousnessâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;its multiplicity, its collectivity, its contingency. This is evident not only in the works of theory and fiction students engage, but also in Nature of Narrative's pedagogy. "Karen did not lecture to us, preside over us, instruct our thinking, but instead struggled with us to decipher the fiction, questioned us, helped us sculpt our nebulous ideas, encouraged us to move deeper and deeper within these books," says Matthew Kennedy '18. "Now, I'd like to think I'm a better readerâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;of novels, of experiences, of the people around me, of the themes pervading the world we inhabit. And I've found satisfaction in only ever getting halfway there." Perhaps what Nature of Narrative teaches all of us is that literary study is best when

it is not about analytic mastery, about grasping a universalizing whole through the modes and mechanisms of a discipline. Rather, studies of literature are at their best when they consider how each whole story makes up part of another whole, and that our consciousness is a process, a practice, a partial collecting of meaningful wholes. Nine years after sitting in the Nature of Narrative classroom, its influence holds. Along with Karen, I believe that through these stories, which are always both partial and whole, we grow capable of overturning the anecdotes of mastery with the antidote of our multiple mysteries. We are always on the way, changing paths via our stories as well as the stories of those with whom we travel. Sarah Haughn '08 finishes her master's in English with an emphasis in the creative writing of poetry at UC Davis this June, then joins Davis' performance studies PhD program.

Ernie McMullen's Lasting Impact By Alonso Diaz Rickards '12 Photos by Becca Haydu '16 Once, halfway through his Ceramics I course, Ernie McMullen was demonstrating how to throw a large pitcher. This is the hardest task imaginable for a beginner ceramist, as it requires raising a tall cylinder and shaping it to be both capacious and lightweight. Ernie's apparent ease at raising and shaping the rotating vessel was met by the class with real awe. Afterwards, someone eagerly asked him what object had been most difficult to make during his career as a potter.

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Ernie McMullen advises a student in his Problems in Painting class.

"Have you seen my paintings?" was Ernie's reply. During his forty-two years at COA, Ernie McMullen has taught courses and tutorials in painting, life drawing, photography, two-dimensional design, calligraphy, and ceramics. As a painter, he specializes in hyper-realistic and classically composed takes on the local landscape, combining a luminist's eye with the brush of an Italian calligrapher. He is also a piano tuner and amateur pianist, a tea enthusiast, and an occasional furniture maker. To this range of assiduously cultivated skills, Ernie brings a unity of approach that models for students invaluable transdisciplinary lessons.

Ernie McMullen assists Mackenzie Watson '16 during one of his final classes, Problems in Painting: Techniques, Skills, and Vision.

His Problems in Painting course, for example, begins by familiarizing students with the raw materials they will be employing. When I took the course in winter 2008, we had a hand in the cutting, sealing, gessoing, and sanding of the panels we were to paint on. We were made aware of the precise history and qualities of the brushes and paints we were to employ—never student grade—and shown the correct way of handling them. A high sensitivity to craftsmanship permeated the entire course, and hinged together a history of pictorial composition, optical theory, and aesthetic appreciation. In that class, as in his Life Drawing and TwoDimensional Design courses, Ernie pushed students to depict things, places, or people in a recognizable, realistic way. He offered no formula, however, to accomplish this. As we all soon found out, nothing could have been more difficult. Such seriousness could initially be off-putting to students expecting art courses to be downtime from the "harder" academic pursuits of marine science or climate politics, and confusing to those who only wanted to express emotion without going through the slog of attempting objectivity. Yet as the term advanced, the exhausting process of training eye and hand enabled students to better articulate their individual visions. 18

Alicia Hynes '11 was an advisee, student, and teaching assistant of Ernie's. "I saw students come to Ernie who were terrified of pencil and paper, who had enrolled simply to satisfy the registrar," she says. "Throughout the course of ten weeks, Ernie would tenaciously transform these tentative students into artists, somehow drawing out of them talents, visual acuity, and creativity they perhaps did not know dwelled inside them." Of the many classes I took with Ernie, and for which I was also a teaching assistant, Life Drawing brought out the most visceral responses from students. Even on a good day, the sense of failure could be overwhelming, and Ernie would never spare a feeling, pointing out the many unconscious distortions we had just spent half an hour so carefully rendering. Yet in tackling our recurring weak spots, we developed individual, unique solutions, which were greatly encouraged. Drawing had become art-making, acquiring the significance, and the thrill, of a battle with the psyche. "Looking back," recalls Josh Winer '91, now COA's lecturer in photography, "I realize that what I learned in that 2-D course in terms of hand and eye skills was critically important for my future life. But so, too, was the confidence I gained in doing what I'd considered impossible. Yes, Ernie taught me to draw, but he also taught me so much more: he taught me to believe in my own talents, and that persistence pays off." The many skills Ernie has taught and cultivated offer students a direct, intuitive way of interacting with their material environment, and of finding their place within it. For some, it is in admiring the specific hue that Mount Desert Island takes on during a long summer sunset—and subsequently noting that even the best camera is never able to quite capture it. For others, it is the dribbling of mysterious glazes over earthenware mugs and being fascinated by the unreproducible results. For me, it was Ernie's exacting standards in painting that most shaped my understanding of the relationship between the arts and sciences. By his instruction and example I learned that drawing or painting with convincing realism demands fully conscious, subjective interpretation of the most challenging sort. His approach to art-making—always hands-on and inquisitive about the physical world itself—continues to shape my work as a painter. It is a true ethos for a lifetime of learning, dedication, and lasting joy. Ernie McMullen retired this spring. He will now focus full-time on his painting. Alonso Diaz Rickards '12 is currently working on a series of paintings depicting the parks and urban life of Mexico City, where he grew up and spent part of 2014. His work can be seen at alonsodiazrickards.com.

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Students in the Samsø course, Islands: Energy, Economy, and Community, take in the view of the Danish island of Samsø atop a onemegawatt turbine that powers 650 homes. From left: Zabet NeuCollins '15, Nathaniel Diskint, MPhil '16, Surya Karki '16, Paige Nygaard '17, and in front, Kate Unkel '14. Photo by

Jay Friedlander.

To Samsø and Beyond By Donna Gold Last fall, sixteen College of the Atlantic students, two faculty members, five Maine islanders, and two members of Maine's Island Institute staff gathered on Denmark's carbon negative, fully renewably powered Samsø Island to study how the 3,800 Samsingers (rising to 13,000 in summer) became energy independent. The group wanted to understand the process, discover what worked and what didn't—and what might be applied to Maine islands. By climbing inside wind turbines and peering beneath solar panels, participants learned something of the nuts and bolts of energy efficiency. But as they spoke with Samsingers, they discovered that the most important lessons had to do with something quite inefficient: listening. And patience. To make broad changes, they found, it's essential to hear everyone's needs, concerns, desires. After all, many Samsingers were at first quite skeptical about renewable energy efforts. "Changes have to occur not just physically but socially," says course participant Zakary Kendall '17. "Social and technological change can't be put into place by outside entities: it has to seep through the cracks of a community. While working on an energy project on Maine's Vinalhaven Island, a fellow student and I shook every hand offered to us and made it a priority to know every name of every face; we made ourselves part of the community."

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The work continues on Maine's offshore islands, and closer by, on Mount Desert Island. Because tightening older, leaky homes makes a major difference in energy use, Samsø participants Paige Nygaard '17 and Andrea Russell, MPhil '18 created a pilot project on Mount Desert Island offering group discounts for energy audits and air sealing, while also streamlining the process and paperwork for a dozen COA staff and faculty members. In a kind of relay, students in the hands-on, project-based course, Physics and Mathematics of Sustainable Energy taught by Samsø co-instructor Anna Demeo, COA's director of energy education and management, and Dave Feldman, faculty member in physics and math, have taken up Andrea and Paige's work, and are expanding it. By fall, Anna hopes the greater MDI community can take advantage of similar energy audit and air sealing discounts. Further steps toward a more energy-efficient MDI range from group purchasing of energy audits, air sealing, and insulation, to community solar, enabling community members to offset electricity bills through centralized solar arrays. Delineating the projects' economic, social, logistical, and technological aspects is another effort of students in this spring's sustainable energy course. The Samsø Island project was made possible by the Fund for Maine Islands, linking COA with the Island Institute to form the Collaborative for Island Energy Research and Action, or CIERA.

Below: Paige Nygaard '17 and Andrea Russell, MPhil '18 take a warm, fully insulated break from writing their final presentation on the insulation project they organized to complete the Samsø course. Photo by Paige Nygaard '17.

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What is a BTU?

Turretsâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;Changes Matter Tightening really does lower emissions & costs Extensive work on The Turrets in 2013 was primarily focused on preserving the historic building. Still, tighter windows and doors have gone a long way WR PDNLQJ WKH \HDU ROG EXLOGLQJ PRUH HQHUJ\ HÉ?FLHQW $ QHZ PRUH HÎ?HFWLYH SURSDQH ERLOHU LQ WKH DQQH[ HPLWWLQJ DERXW KDOI DV PXFK &2 DV WKH old boiler) helps too. Emissions from The Turrets have been lowered by 25 SHUFHQW PDNLQJ LW FOHDQHU E\ D ORQJVKRW WKDQ WKH DYHUDJH FDPSXV EXLOGLQJ UHO\LQJ RQ IRVVLO IXHOV RI FRXUVH RXU QHZHVW DGGLWLRQV RXWČ´WWHG ZLWK VRODU and pellets, outshine them all).

The British thermal unit %78 RU %WX LV D WUDGLWLRQDO unit of energy equal to about 1055 joules. It is the amount of energy needed to cool or heat one pound of water by one degree Fahrenheit.

Before Renovation

500 Gal

Annual Fuel Consumption = 875,000,000 BTUs of energy from 6,300 gallons of #2 heating oil

300 Gal

One 4" wooden match generates 1 BTU when burned completely. (actual size)

After Renovation

500 Gal

300 Gal

2,600 Gal

500 Gal

Annual Fuel Consumption = 700,000,000 BTUs of energy from 3,300 gallons of #2 heating oil and 2,600 gallons of propane

The data for this page comes from Nicholas Urban '15, especially from his senior project, "A Feasibility Assessment of College of the Atlantic's Energy Goals," in which Nick assesses where COA is now in regards to energy usage and suggests a roadmap toward the college's goal of becoming free of fossil fuels by 2050.

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Students in the Community School's first year gather with teacher Bethany Anderson '13. Photo by Jasmine Smith '09.

A Sense of Self and Place: The Community School of Mount Desert Island By Eloise Schultz '16 On an early spring day in Seal Harbor, Maine, sunlight streams through the windows of a classroom overlooking Acadia National Park's Stanley Brook. Inside one corner of the warmly lit room, shoes and jackets have been neatly ordered beside a bookshelf, while a blackboard is covered with a richly chalked drawing of a gnarled tree, its roots entangled in an underworld exploration of Norse myths and fables. The walls of the adjacent room are hung with colorful fabrics creating a cozy burrow for a study of winter 22

ecology. Nearby, a family of felted gnomes sits on a shelf beneath a clothesline hung with watercolors drying in the sun. These two spaces in Seal Harbor's Abby Chapel form the inside classrooms of the first year of The Community School of Mount Desert Island. A door leads to the school's outside classroom: a field stretching to Seal Harbor's pebble beach, protected by an island at the mouth of the harbor. Though truly, all of Mount Desert Island serves as a classroom for this humanecological school, which currently

enrolls fourteen students from across the island. Founding director Jasmine Smith '09 has been working to establish a place-based school on MDI for years (see Fall 2010). Originally, says Jasmine, "Nick [ Jenei '09] and I were thinking about a high school geared towards the complex, big ideas that a human ecological education inspires. The mission hasn't changed, but it's been retooled." Through an integrated, expeditionary curriculum, weekly outings, and town meeting-style gatherings, COLLEGE OF THE ATLANTIC MAGAZINE

students and teachers have found new ways to cultivate a sense of self and of place. Jasmine's years at COA, her stint as the director of the college's Summer Field Studies, and connections made as a homeschool teacher on the island, laid the foundation of the Community School. Her experience is enhanced by a profusion of human ecologists: Bethany Anderson '13 teaches the older class, Nick teaches music, Karen Ressel (wife of COA biologist Steve Ressel) and adjunct Patricia Ayala-Rocabado teach handwork and Spanish. The board includes COA founding president Ed Kaelber, along with education faculty members and COA alumni, and is led by Lynn Boulger, COA's dean of institutional advancement. "We don't do things like other schools," says third-grader Samara Gilhooley, daughter of Lauren Rupp '05, COA's coordinator of wellness and campus engagement. "We spend lots of time outside exploring nature, building, and getting to know our friends and lots of places around here." Weekly outings, focused on the current themes of each class and warmed by a sense of camaraderie and adventure, form a major component of the school environment. "We have so much fun and always get into something messy!" exclaims second-grader Lolie Ellis. "You know, an adventure, like trying to figure out a way off of Bar Island, getting caked with clay at [local potter] Rocky Mann's, and almost getting stuck when we were crossing an old beaver dam!" While the expeditions may take students all over the island, the Community School also dedicates itself to a particular place. The Maine Coast Heritage Trust has assigned the students stewardship of the shore path set alongside the dramatic cliffs at Cooksey Drive Overlook. "We've been there on a balmy September day and we've been there when the trail is an ice COLLEGE OF THE ATLANTIC MAGAZINE

floe," says Jasmine. "We've seen things blossom and die back. In the spring, we'll start to see it cycle to completion." Some of the students' responsibilities include trail maintenance and visitor information. That may sound like a big project for a five-year-old, but it's an opportunity to gain real-life skills and make connections to the land. "They were just meticulous," recalls Jasmine. "Some of the younger students worked on clipping bracken fern from the path. One child sat down with the visitor log and started writing where everyone was from, which started the conversation of why people come to this island from all over the world." Another fall expedition took the students to the Bar Harbor Food Pantry where they learned about food access and community service. "The visit brought an awareness to the children that there were people in our community in need of something our children take for granted: food. They felt called to help support members of the community, even ones they didn't know. We're not sugarcoating it. We're showing them the essence of life." Following the food pantry visit, the school traced some of the vegetables back to their origins at COA's Beech Hill Farm. "We learned about the farm's relationship with the community and the role it plays with this system. â&#x20AC;Ś It's all about context: we're learning that stewardship means not just the land, but the people." Service opportunities are just one part of the curriculum's focus on cultivating a sense of self within the community; every Wednesday both classes gather in a town meeting to share announcements, cares and concerns, and ideas or suggestions. "Regardless of the type of share, children are given the practice and opportunity to find their voice inside and learn

to communicate what is on their hearts and minds," Jasmine says. Mindfulness exercises during each class's morning meeting help to build an understanding that "to be a positive, participating member of a community, one must know and be at peace with oneself." Weekly cycles roll into seasonal ones, with transitions marked by community festivals. In the fall, students organized crafts for a harvest festival and ventured out on Northeast Creek to celebrate the cranberry harvest. Joined by their families on Heirloom Apple Day, students pressed a bounty of apples into cider at the Smith Family Farm, bright with fall color. It's one of Jasmine's favorite memories: "I vividly recall looking around at all of our families and community members while a student ensemble from COA played string instruments on a nearby knoll. The wind was blowing apple prints that we had drying on a clothesline. Children were sharing their favorite heirloom varieties with community members amidst a hearty potluck lunch. It was a moment of coming together, of beautiful realization." After less than a year, the school has already begun to lay the ground for a new generation of human ecologists: when finishing up an expedition titled "Our Home, Our Place, Our Community," Jasmine asked one of her students if she remembered what it meant to be a steward. Echoing the dream of a school five years in the making, the student responded, "Someone who loves a place and takes care of it." For more information, visit thecommunityschool.me. Eloise Schultz '16 taught singing classes at The Community School in the fall of 2014. Her studies at COA have focused on education and the human ecology of voice.

Untitled, graphite, colored pencil, and acrylic ink on paper, 22 x 30 inches, 2011

Drawn Diaries: Valerie Giles '88 Valerie Giles draws lines and loops and eddies with the intensity of a woman on a personal journey. For her, these lines are akin to the way the bark of a tree develops, or grass leaves fold in upon each other. She is entranced by the shapes that are there, and those that aren't—the empty, negative space between. Currently, Valerie is working out of an elegantly spare apartment on New York City's Upper West Side, with a view over a terrace and the intricate patterns of a vine-covered wall. Her journeys on paper are created in pencil or ink; she then "paints" them with colored pencils, acrylic ink, glue, or other materials. These drawings reflect a life that has been focused on discovery. Born to artist parents and raised in rural Pennsylvania and New York, Valerie was introduced to both natural history and art, and allowed to nurture everything from caterpillars and kestrels to horses and goats. Most important, she was left free to wander the woods near her home. "Being ten and being able to go where no one knows where you are is exciting and important and wonderful," she says. "I could explore in my own way and not someone else's prescribed way—it's a very different thing to discover an animal on your own than when someone shows you. There's nothing like it."

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Untitled, graphite and colored pencil on paper, 23 x 30 inches, 2007 COLLEGE OF THE ATLANTIC MAGAZINE

Untitled, graphite and colored pencil on paper, 13 x 17 inches, 2012

COA allowed something of a continuation of that freedom. Valerie knew she would always draw, but she didn't want to study art; she preferred to stay within her own voice. What she wanted was natural history. She studied taxidermy and museum preparation with Skip Buyers-Basso '83, ornithology with the late Bill Drury, invertebrate zoology with Steve Katona, and conservation biology with John Anderson. But her senior project was a series of drawings. "I don't think I'd have had the option to do that at many schools. That to me is so important, the sciences inform me, and then I can make art that's all a part of it." Valerie later worked for Manomet Center for Conservation Sciences in Plymouth, Massachusetts; with David Wagner at the University of Connecticut at Storrs, contributing scientific illustrations and photographs to his guides Owlet Caterpillars of Eastern North America and Caterpillars of Eastern North America; and as a scientific assistant at the American Museum of Natural History. But Valerie doesn't like speaking about her drawings—for her, the lines she makes are her words; the drawings are like diary entries or letters. As she looks through her portfolio, noticing the modulations of color of one drawing, the delicacy of a line as it intersects with another, she recalls the pupa of a butterfly, the fin of a manatee. Subtly, they reflect the experience of her forty-eight years. Here, in these drawings, she says, "I know what I'm saying." —DG Valerie Giles' work can be found at the Danese/Corey Gallery: danesecorey.com/artists/valerie-giles.

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Unconventional Angles Story and illustrations by Khristian Mendez '15

College of the Atlantic is a community that never ceases to challenge. During my time as a student I have been constantly pushed to examine the foundations of my beliefs and actionsâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;not only in classes, but also in highly engaging conversations with other members of the community. It occurred to me that the conversations and intellectual inquiries which sprout daily on our campus likely have a similar effect on others: that we are all constantly changing the way one another thinks. Curious, I set out to question a range of community members about specific instances that challenged and deepened their understanding of the world around us by looking at it from new, unconventional angles.

When the climate changes your landscape Trudi Zundel '13, alumna

Shifting priorities Jarly Bobadilla, staff

Trudi Zundel spent much of her time at COA preparing to navigate the United Nations' environmental policy conferences and then reflecting upon the meetings. She traveled the world to follow what governments were doing (or saying they would do) to reduce carbon dioxide emissions and adapt to a changing climate. One of her a-ha moments happened in lecturer Candice Stover's class, Classic Shorts: Changing Weather, just before she went off to the 2013 UN Framework Convention on Climate Change in Doha, Qatar. Reading and writing stories about weather and season changes brought home, says Trudi, "the emotional, psychological, social, and cultural implications of changes to weather and climate. The class showed a more personal, emotional side of climate change, in addition to the politics and grave predictions to which climate activists can too quickly become desensitized." Climate change will likely affect the landscape she and her family call home, altering the seasons by which she has lived her whole life. Ultimately, she says, it might be the stories of environmental change and loss, and not scientific data and the threat of global catastrophe, that will help people wrap their minds (and hearts) around how climate change will affect them. And maybe it will even catalyze more of us to action.

Raised in Cuba, Jarly Bobadilla lived in Florida before coming to Maine where he has worked in COA's information technology department for five years. He is an active conversationalist, happy to talk while he updates the software of the community's computers, helps keep our network functional and efficient, and fixes the occasional broken printer. He's also sat in on a few classes, and likes to jog with students. At COA, says Jarly, "Both sides of a conversation put effort into understanding. And that is where you begin listening to people. They tell you their stories, but also their mistakes. Usually people don't share their mistakes." This humble, human communion frames deep conversations, adds Jarly, ones that have changed him. Jarly recalls talking with Rich Borden, faculty member in psychology. "Rich writes books and letters, he's a philosopher, and he's also built three houses. When I came to the US, I had a very closed mind about myself: I worked with computers. My reference was my family's life in Miami: have a job and a nice car so people can see you're important." Jarly's connection with COA helped to shift his prioritiesâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;and now, with a friend's help, he's constructing a house of his own.

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More than an academic community Dru Colbert, faculty

Pelts and a reimagined ecology lesson Jamie Bastedo, parent

Dru Colbert and her partner Nancy Andrews came to teach at COA from the School of the Art Institute of Chicago, an environment strongly influenced by art and artistic practice. "I used to teach art to art students; I used to hang out with artists," she says. "While this was great and exciting, Nancy and I began to find we had a very limited social group." Coming to COA exposed Dru to a sense of community that inspired her to include community-based projects as part of her class assignments, and to create massive performance installations tied to local history involving people from across Mount Desert Island. The occasion that impacted Dru the most was a coming together of people that profoundly changed her sense of community. It happened during and after Nancy's time in an intensive care unit. "Growing up, community to me meant my family and a few others in the town where I lived," Dru says. But in late 2004, soon after Dru underwent a life-threatening experience herself, Nancy had to be life-flighted to Boston where she spent four weeks in the hospital, three in the ICU. During that time, says Dru, "everybody rallied around us; they sent e-mails and stayed in touch with me during the process." And when she and Nancy returned to their home in Otter Creek, "our house was clean, our bills had been paid, there were flowers on the table, and fresh food in our refrigerator. Even after that, people had organized to cook dinner for us every night for a month." This experience changed the way Dru thought about community: "This amount of community support between faculty and staff members is unheard of anywhere else. I was so humbled and felt so much a part of something that was more than an academic space." This sense of community is something Dru experiences to this day.

Jamie Bastedo of Yellowknife, Canada is the father of current senior Nimisha Bastedo. A science writer, Jamie specializes in ecology and environmental studies. During Nimisha's first year, he and her mom, Brenda, visited COA for Family and Alumni Weekend and attended John Anderson's section of the Human Ecology Core Course. "John was talking about an ecological classic: the relationship between the population of lynx and snowshoe hare. Anyone who's taken an ecology class in North America has seen the drawings that accompany this lesson: first you draw the graph, then the bunnies go up, which means the lynx go up, ultimately leading the bunnies down." But then the class conversation took an unexpected turn. "The next minute we were talking about fashion trends in Europe. Here we go folks! I buckled up. We discussed how lynx coats may or may not be popular as a fashion trend. We discussed the quality of the trapping records archive from Hudson Bay in Winnipeg." Students questioned the credibility of the information, and how the data might be skewed. "Off we went to Louisianaâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;they probably don't have lynx or snowshoe hare, but other species that may tap into the fashion niche. We went around the world, we talked about institutions, we went down into the data." Finally John drew the expected graph on the board and the class circled back to lynx and hare. For Jamie, this exploration underscored "the point of questioning and exploring what we believe to be true on the surface. COA is a place that digs very deeply and very widelyâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;we didn't discuss this in my ecology class in university."

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Bring your paintbrushes to the UN Khristian Mendez '15, student To close this exploration, I thought it fitting to share one of my personal a-ha moments. Last winter I took Doreen Stabinsky's Global Environmental Policy course, Animation 2 with Nancy Andrews, and Constructing Visual Narrative with Dru Colbert. The policy class contained not just a heavy workload, but also two intense weeks of mock negotiations on the United Nation's sustainable development goals. This meant I had seventeen meetings during the final weeks of the term, while also completing some of the longest hours and heaviest studio work I had experienced in art classes. One night I was washing my paintbrushes, thinking about the Environmental Policy class, and how our mock negotiations were about "everything" in the international environmental policy world: marine biodiversity, food security, water, economics, climate change, disasters, unemployment, forests, gender, health, population, and so forth. I looked at my paintbrush releasing the red acrylic paint under the stream of water, and I wondered where this paint and the marks I had made with it would fit in the universe of sustainable development. It then dawned on me that so far my "artist side" was not spoken for in these negotiations. Yet sustainable development is supposed to be about what humans need in order to live happy, decent lives in harmony with nature. This was not just an academic conflict, but a deeply personal one. How could people I would meet and collaborate with at the United Nations negotiations recognize that artistic expression and creativity can inform what is being discussed if I hadn't made that connection myself? Would each

part exclude the other depending on the setting? I left the studio with cold, wet hands, confused. In our final class meeting, Doreen asked everyone to share something we learned during the mock negotiations. I voiced my paintbrush-inspired conundrum. Doreen smiled and pushed for more. As I spoke, I began to see that the sustainable development goals' negotiationsâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;informed as they were by other parts of the UN system and by what societies tend to thinkâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;do not recognize artistic creation as a human need. And yet, almost all of our readings about the process of negotiation spoke about the need for creativity and new ideas to spur positive outcomes. My vision of myself, and of my work in both international diplomacy and art, have never been the same.

Being in contact with others at College of the Atlantic catalyzes imagination and re-imagination from intellectual and emotional perspectives. While the content of these realizations cannot be written on diplomas, I consider them to be the essence of the COA experienceâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;one in which learning is a challenging endeavor, where questions are posed that we haven't before asked seriously and openly, proposing new approaches to very old problems. These new approaches highlight nuances we've ignored in the past, and open new horizons, contributing to the richness of a planet where, after millennia, we are still learning to live.

Khristian Mendez '15 is originally from Guatemala City, Guatemala. His senior project, a piece of dramatic literature, was inspired by his involvement with UN negotiation processes on sustainable development and food security.

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Leaders of the Track The Human Ecology of Blocking and Jamming By Heather Candon '99 Ten women stand tight in a pack on an indoor track, geared head to toe in helmets, mouth guards, elbow pads, wrist guards, knee pads, and roller skates. They are ready for battle. With a blow of the whistle, the pack shoves forward, a snarl of women pushing parallel around the oval track like a scrum on wheels. This is roller derby, contact sport on skates. 7KH WZR WHDPV RI Č´YH PDGH XS of four blockers and one jammer, follow the same direction around the track. The calculated tangle of blockers from both teams skate neck and neck, and are only a few beats ahead of the jammers who are trying to break through their human wall. A jammer is known by the star on her helmetâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;if it's not apparent by how she's using her body like a wrecking ball. Both teams' jammers simultaneously try to push through the opposing four blockers in order to continue around the track. It's not until a second pass through the rival pack that a jammer can score, winning a point for each blocker she passes. In the thick of it is Beth (Boland) Beaulieu '95, jostling to free herself from the group. She takes a hip check from an opposing blocker but stays steady on her skates. Moving toward an opening, Beth grabs a teammate's jersey and ZKLSV KHUVHOI IRUZDUG 6KH ČľLHV along the inside track, then jumps the apex with masterful agility. She nails a perfect landing, scoring for her team. Beth plays the jammer position for Bangor Roller Derby. As she plows through the thicket of the four opposing blockers, her teammates play defense and RÎ?HQVH DW WKH VDPH WLPH 7KH\ work to keep the rival jammer from 30

scoring while also helping Beth penetrate the other pack. 2Î? WKH WUDFN %HWK ZRUNV DV D teaching assistant at a therapeutic school. The sport helps her to decompress from the stress of her job. A single mother, derby is the only free time she has away from her daughter, whom her ex watches while Beth is at practice. On the track, she goes by Hammerdown, a colloquial expression well-known to downeasters as a certain manner for getting something done. Each woman self-designates her derby name, typically a play on words that represents a mix of personal style, skillset, and philosophy. For Beth, Hammerdown is a way of life both RQ DQG RÎ? WKH WUDFN $ MDPPHU KDV to be fearless and aggressive. She has to take the hard hits and keep moving forward. Radically inclusive contact sport Roller Derby has been around since the early twentieth century, but not until the early 2000s did it evolve to include the traits that distinguish it from other sports: democratically principled, femaledriven, and radically inclusive. In 1935, sports promoter Leo Seltzer created the Transcontinental Roller Derby. Though skating had been growing in popularity since the 1880s, the epic proportion of the Transcontinental Roller Derby was something audiences hadn't seen EHIRUH Î&#x2013;W ZDV WKH Č´UVW WLPH PHQ and women competed together and were subject to the same rules. Tens of thousands of spectators Č´OOHG WKH VWDGLXPV What began as a coed race skating event gradually turned into small teams competing for points.

Contact became integral to the game. The sport enjoyed a devoted fanbase until World War II depleted the derby of both player and audience. In the early years of the new millennium the sport was revived and reinvented, this time with women at the helm. Men enjoyed a host of contact team sports, but few existed for women. Today, according to roller derby advocates, it is among the fastest-growing sports in the world, with more than a handful of human ecologists playing a role in its celebrated resurgence. Testifying the derby To the uninitiated, roller derby may look like a mess on wheels. But there is an evident reverence that players have for the sport. They don't so much talk about roller derby as testify, such is the impact it has had on their lives. Carla Ganiel worked in COA's GHYHORSPHQW RÉ?FH IURP WR DQG LV QRZ D VWDÎ? PHPEHU DW the Corporation for National and Community Service in Washington, DC. Surly Jackson is her derby name, after her favorite writer. Carla herself is a writer; her blog "Whip My Assets" details her derby adventures, among other topics. She had already begun a personal TXHVW WR LPSURYH KHU Č´WQHVV ZKHQ VKH VDZ KHU Č´UVW GHUE\ ERXW 6KH wanted in. "It's amazing to be with all WKHVH ZRPHQ ZKR DUH LQWR Č´WQHVV and exercise, not for beauty or appeal, but to be able to do amazing things. You focus on your body being able to do what it needs to do."

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Transformation on wheels While a certain camaraderie is necessary for any team sport, community is integral to roller derby; leagues are skater-owned and operated. From logo designs to the creation of bylaws, players work together on all aspects of business, devoting a tremendous amount of time to their league. Sarah Bockian '05, aka Sugarbush, works as a nurse in Portland, Maine. She's been playing with Maine Roller Derby

IRU VHYHQ \HDUV DQG UHČľHFWV RQ what's at the heart of the sport: "We're interdependent, we're self-determining. We create every aspect of the derby. In the beginning it was necessary to be this way because everything was bootstrapped. But we've continued because the ethos of our selfgoverning community is highly valued. There are people who put in more than twenty hours D ZHHN (YHU\ PHPEHU IXOČ´OOV some participatory requirement.

7RS )RUPHU GHYHORSPHQW VWDÎ?HU Carla Ganiel, aka Surly Jackson, on the right, keeping the Chicago 2XWČ´W V MDPPHU IURP VFRULQJ Carla was playing in Chicago IRU WKH '& 5ROOHUJLUOV WUDYHOLQJ % WHDP WKH 1DWLRQDO 0DXOHUV 3KRWR E\ 3DEOR 5DZ

Bottom: Environmental educator DQG MDPPHU NQRZQ E\ WKH VWDU on her helmet) Chrystal Seeley6FKUHFN LV FDOOLQJ RÎ? WKH MDP ZLWK KHU KDQGV WR SUHYHQW WKH RWKHU WHDP V MDPPHU IURP VFRULQJ 3KRWR E\ -DVRQ +DUULV

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Sometimes there's passionate disagreement among people who are friends, but we work through it because we share a common goal." To hear Sarah attest to the transformative power of derby, one would think she was recalling College of the Atlantic. "I've had the privilege of watching some women start out timid and grow into strong, self-assured badasses. It's one of the best things derby does for people." Environmental educator Chrystal Seeley-Schreck '02, DND 6ZLUO\ %XUO DÉ?UPV 6DUDK V testimony, "The community is rooted in this crazy physical sport, but the impact is strengthening individuals inside and out in a way that is strengthening the human and ecological communities we are embedded in," she says. "Derby leagues are using their empowered enthusiasm to make the world around us betterâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;human ecology DW LWV Č´QHVW Roller derby is becoming international; many regard the sport's presence in places like Egypt and the United Arab Emirates an auspicious nod towards social change. Carla underscores that thought: "There's an awareness that we're creating an inclusive, empowered community that can change people's lives." From discomfort to discovery Indeed every player has a story of transformation. To take part in roller derby is to commit to the hard work of running a team that functions as a self-sustaining business with a diverse group of women, as well as to take the physical risks that come with the VSRUW LWVHOI &RQČľLFW LV LQHYLWDEOH Business partners and teammates are one and the same. Clear communication is crucial to player safety on the track, and to the continued existence of the league. It takes a lot more than balance to put on a pair of skates and race

at high intensity intervals, having people hit you as hard as they can. The communities born of roller derby are also the reason for the sport's success. Without the strong relationships between teammates, their courage to be vulnerable and take risks wouldn't be possible. To fall down repeatedly but get back up. To withstand bruises or worse. To speak up in a crowd. These

skills are hard-won, built on the courage and confidence fueled by the unflaggingly supportive derby relationships. And the personal strength that each player discovers through derby permeates the rest of their lives. Though kindergarten teacher and "jeerleader" Beth (Vickery) Heidemann '91 hadn't originally connected human ecology to

derbying, she now sees many parallels. Like COA, she says, "roller derby is inclusive and equalizing— both create an environment that values individuality. Of course, being a human ecologist, I see the ripple effects that my derby involvement has had on other areas of my life. I am not particularly good at jeering, so it forces me to face public failure and turn it into an opportunity to create joy from chaos. That certainly carries over into my kindergarten work." Massage therapist Sara Levine '04, aka Slayra, agrees. Reflecting on the sport's instructional value, she offers this: "In life, there are times when you have to push through uncomfortable situations and not give up. Roller derby taught me to feel less afraid to try new things." Discomfort as a launchpad for discovery is a familiar concept for human ecologists given the oft-repeated quote of the late biology faculty member Bill Drury, hardwired into our collective unconscious: Pay attention. You are about to learn something.* Just don't forget to wear your protective gear. Additional COA women who have been involved in roller derbies include: • • •

Top: Beth (Vickery) Heidemann '91, aka Seven Deadly Spins, "jeering" for Maine's Rock Coast Rollers. Beth holds the 2012 Presidential Award for Excellence in Mathematics and Science Teaching. Photo by Tim Sullivan. Bottom: Beth (Boland) Beaulieu '95, Bangor Roller Derby's jammer, playing against Prince Edward Island's Twisted Sisters. Photo by David Hodges.

Tina Franco '16, aka Spitfire Annarose Madamma '16, aka Annaphylactic Shock Brynn Nelson '05, aka Full Nelson

Having spent nearly two decades living on islands, first in Maine and then in Spain, Heather Candon '99 is a writer living in New York. *Bill Drury's full quote is: "When your views on the world and your intellect are being challenged and you begin to feel uncomfortable because of a contradiction you've detected that is threatening your current model of the world, pay attention. You are about to learn something."

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Seeking Light Paul Grabhorn ('81)

A Tuareg man rides to a 1997 gathering south of Kidal, in the desert region of northern Mali known as Djiounhan. Writes Paul Grabhorn ('81) of the gathering, "The riders came thundering out of the desert, with hundreds of camels pounding the sand into swirling clouds around their feet. The dignified Tuareg camel riders, dressed in fine turbans and robes, had come for peace and reconciliation discussions hosted by the ICRC." COLLEGE OF THE ATLANTIC MAGAZINE

A refugee girl outside the train that had become her home in Nazran, Ingushetia, about ten miles west of the border with Chechnya, during the 1995 war when Russians and Chechens fought for control of Chechnya. Writes Paul Grabhorn ('81), "Early each morning, after a team meeting, the delegates headed out with their translators in groups of two Land Cruisers; for safety no one went into the field alone. Some delegates worked on the Russian side, some inside Chechnya, assessing needs, building contacts and relationships and coordinating initial relief distributions of medical supplies and food."

From Abkhazia to South Africa, Colombia to the Philippines, photographer Paul Grabhorn ('81) traveled with the International Committee of the Red Cross, or ICRC, for more than a decade, documenting the aid and need of people caught by struggle. In January 2015, Viking Press issued Paul's record of these years, the large-format book Seeking Light: Portraits of Humanitarian Action in War. Of his first trip, which brought food aid to Somalia in 1992, Paul wrote, "The depths of privation and acute suffering of children was heart-wrenching. … Women and children waited patiently in the blazing hot sun. Waited to eat. Not to satisfy their hunger the way we do multiple times a day, but just to gain enough energy to make it through the day." Paul witnessed wars, refugees living in train cars, but also families reunited, amputees given prosthetic limbs, children immunized. In January 1995, Paul was in Chechnya: "Artillery shells thumped in the distance. The explosions were felt in the body as well as heard by the ears. Blasts came in a regular and continual pattern. Grozny was being pounded by Russian artillery shells lobbed from the hills and by fighter jets dropping bombs. … On this day we began at a hospital in Stari Atagi about ten miles south of Grozny, the capital of Chechnya. … There were all kinds of war wounds; the worst were from bombs that contained nails. It took the surgeons hours to carefully remove these nails and bits of shrapnel." At the time, Paul was under contract to the United States government as a publications designer, mostly related to the environment and climate change. Now married and living in Santa Fe, New Mexico, Paul no longer travels into war zones. But he retains a powerful regard for the humanity that frequently emerges when people are under stress. Reflecting about his experience, he says that in a war, "Ninety percent of conflict is people helping each other." The rest is the fighting. "The normal daily pattern of life has stopped, people are exposed, there's a heart opening; neighbors who never knew each other are helping each other. It's a strange thing to say, but there's something in chaos, in war, that brings out the best in humanity." —DG For more, visit seekinglightbook.org 34

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Top: A family reads a Red Cross message from a missing relative in Abkhazia, a disputed territory claimed by Georgia and controlled by a separatist government on the eastern coast of the Black Sea and the south-western flank of the Caucasus. Bottom: A student recites text written on wooden boards at a desert school encampment among the Tuareg in Mali.

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The Water Cycle Story and images by Eloise Schultz '16

t some point, she stopped wearing the ring. When I asked, she told me that it had slipped off while she was swimming and sunk to the bottom of the lake. They searched for it, a gold glint in the mud and pebbles, but soon gave up. It made sense that way; there were two things that she had been given by her mother and presumably her mother before that; two things that she managed to find wherever she went; the two things she would eventually give to me, her eldest daughter: water and loss. The women in my family tread. We take to it from birth, chasing down coastlines, more liquid than anything else. They raised me with the gentle lap of water on lakeshore, the stinging slap of a wave caught on the side of a boat. My grandmother was a lake; my mother, a river. I strained towards and from the two of them like a tidal estuary. The salt, the fierce sparkle of sun on wave, the storm and swell itself, became my 36

birthright. I inherited the ocean of their grief. A woman walking out of water looks more like The Ascent of Man than Botticelli's The Birth of Venus. She stoops, leans heavily from foot to foot, and tests out the ground. Her breasts swing and water falls from her body in rivulets. She straightens, squinting up into the sky, adjusting to the downward drag of gravity. Her hair, no longer loose to the current like a flag is to wind, clumps heavily at her neck. Venus glows bashfully in her clamshell at the edge of the sea. My mother and grandmother emerged from the lake at a crouch, marked with lines of scum and duckweed strata.

here's an art to suspension. It's being caught by time at the nape of the neck, where water rubs a bathtub ring on the body. When the two of them took to the water, they became landscape. Fish would come and nose at their legs. Above the surface their bodies were suntanned and lightly freckled;

below, they were pale and luminous as the moon. From the shore, one could see the two of them bobbing like fishermen's buoys. I was a stream of bubbles nearby, examining their water bodies like icebergs extending far below their bright swim caps. I made them nervous by forgetting to resurface quickly; but once submerged I liked to stay under, in the echo of silence. I played at being back in the womb, floating as quietly as I could, poking at their white heels while they kicked at the water, counting how long I could hold my breath as I watched the light filter through the green murk in splintered rays. Above the surface of the water, my mother and grandmother would talk for ages. Underneath, I heard only the garbled sounds of their murmurs and exclamations. Water clings to itself, remembering everything. In summer, a healthy maple tree will transpireâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;pull up through the roots and push out through the leavesâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;fifty gallons of water per second. The water that a rainforest COLLEGE OF THE ATLANTIC MAGAZINE

in the Congo perspired yesterday contains particles from the water that flooded the Mississippi in 1927, the year my grandmother was born. The same water ran down from the Bigelow Mountains until 1950, when the Dead River was dammed and renamed Flagstaff Lake; the same water into which my mother lost her wedding band in 1994, the year my siblings were seven and nine and I was twelve.

y father didn't leave my mother, he died of cancer soon after my younger brother was born. He had been an archeologist, though his specialty was sediment: ancient dust. Before his sickness he always entered the house with a cheerful bellow, my sister and I crowding around to beat the old-astime dirt from his clothes with our chubby hands. We adored him. When my father began chemotherapy, he stopped his work and started losing weight. Benny was only a few weeks old, and it seemed that as he grew bigger and stronger my father became smaller COLLEGE OF THE ATLANTIC MAGAZINE

and weaker. We were too young to know—our parents hadn't wanted to tell us—but my sister and I kept begging him to play with us, to toss and spin us like he used to, and so my grandmother sat us down and told us frankly that our father, her son-in-law, was very sick. She was perfectly matter-of-fact, gripping her chair as she spoke, explaining that we should cry if we needed to, but what he needed right now was some peace and, of course, our love. While we wept and sniffled, she stroked our hair, rocking the baby Benny in her arms. I felt cheated. It seemed unfair to me that we should have to lose my father for something as useless as a brother, who didn't do much but cry and sleep. He was even sleeping then, on the most terrible day of our lives, blissfully unaware of the awful cost at which he had been born. I was five years old on the morning that my father died, and while a lot of my memory has grown foggy over the years, this day has only ever gotten clearer. I woke up to the sound of my mother's soft crying. A car pulled into the driveway, and I heard the family doctor's voice as he entered the house. A moment later my mother opened the door and knelt by my bed, placing her hands on me. If I trembled at all, she didn't notice. Her eyes were red and she kept them closed while she rocked back and forth, murmuring prayers. Then she stood abruptly and did the same to Alicia, still fast asleep in her bed. My grandmother knocked at the door and asked my mother if she was ready for the body to be moved. The doctor stood behind her. She straightened up, brushed her long hair back from her eyes, and nodded. After the three of them left, I crept to the doorframe in my nightgown to watch my father leave. The doctor was motioning outside where a stretcher was waiting, but my mother ignored him and bent down to pick my father up

in her arms. His wrists hung limply, withered to the bone. Cradled in her strong arms, my father looked like a baby. The doctor held the door open while she laid him gently inside, and they drove off. She was gone the whole day.

fter my mother lost her wedding ring, I began to dream of water. Rooms filled up and we swam in the flooded street, the whole world an ocean. I dreamt so hard and so deep that I woke drenched in forgetfulness. Days passed by in a single night. I spent one weekend poring over my grandmother's Talmud, stolen from the bottom drawer of her nightstand, a relic from a time when religion was not just something for tradition's sake, like an old costume stuffed in a closet. I had only seen her open it once, and that was during the week after my father died. She had been reading quietly, mouthing the words on the page to herself. Hebrew became the language of her grief, and she would later teach me to read it as well. When she saw me standing in the doorway, she abruptly closed the book, shifting to face me and opening her arms for a hug. I didn't know at the time what the book was—only that it was part of the strange ritual of candles and black cloth that had seized control of our house. Years later, I crept into her room and read the translated pages of the Talmud in a closet with a flashlight, skipping over words I did not know and lingering on phrases that seemed to hold special power. I flipped to a dogeared page and scanned from left to right, my eyes finally lighting on Psalm 90:5: You sweep them away as with a flood; they are like a dream, like grass that is renewed in the morning. My head ran through stories I had heard from my friends who went to Hebrew school. The first un-creation of mythic earth took the form of a flood, God's 37

temper spilled into a washout. I was beginning to realize that water makes a cycle of time, reminding us that loss of land is wrapped up into loss of self, of life. Our souls leave our bodies through water; we bleed when struck, we are soaked into the groundwater or evaporated into the sky. It might be the Ganges, the Nile, or the Styx, but most everyone seems to agree that death is a river for crossing.

here are seventeen rivers in the United States called "Dead," but only one of them has swallowed an entire town, and this was the town they called Flagstaff Village in western Maine. Flagstaff Lake had warm, rustcolored water. It was too murky for anything to be seen below the surface, but we dove anyway, hoping to find an old coin or other proof that the town had been there. We were renting the house from an elderly couple, but it had recently been built—constructed when their children could no longer remember a time when there had been no lake. My mother and grandmother spent hours every morning in the water. I swam around their heels, excited and terrified that I might see the roof of a house, an old car. I imagined feeling, with my foot, the tip of an old church steeple, or maybe a treasure chest not seen for nearly half a century. Such a length of time seemed enormous to me. It had occurred recently enough, I knew, for my grandmother to have been alive when the town was still a town. But my grandmother was the oldest person I knew. My mother cooked dinner in the large tiled kitchen every evening at the lake house. After spending all day swimming, her hair hung in strings and her fingers were wrinkled; lit through the window by the evening light coming off the lake, she was the most beautiful sight. My grandmother would start the water boiling in the late afternoon and then sit outside on 38

the porch and smoke cigarettes. I often sat with her, but the smell made me so sick that I couldn't stay long without feeling nauseous. I wanted so badly to hear her stories, however, that I persisted, eyes watering and holding back a cough.

y grandmother's birthday was only a few days after my father's yarzheit. She had explicitly told us that she didn't want a big party—which, my mother explained, meant that she did in fact want us to make some kind of fuss. It was my mother's idea to paddle to the wild blueberry barrens on the far shore and pick enough to make a pie. My grandmother would watch my siblings at the house. On the morning of the big trip, the sky was gray and worrisome. "It'll clear up," my mother said, looking hopeful. She moved around the kitchen, pulling together ingredients for lunch. The two women—my mother in her carpenter jeans and loose sweater, my grandmother in slacks and a cardigan—stood next to each other, framing a measure of time of which I had been previously unaware. It dawned on me that I might one day look like they did: eyes gathering wrinkles, skin freckled with wavering veins. My grandmother had a skin tag on the back of her neck that showed whenever she bent her head. I could feel it roll underneath my fingers when she knelt to buckle my life jacket tightly around me. A light breeze stirred the surface of the lake. It was early enough in the day for the water to retain some of the glassiness typical of early morning. I climbed in the bow of the canoe and held the gunwales cheerfully as my mother pushed off the shore with the blade of her paddle, launching us into the mist that had settled over the lake the previous night. Our journey across was peaceful, serene—she interrupted the silence only to

gently correct my paddling stroke. Stepping through a thicket of low, green scrub, we bent to gather wild blueberries. I raked my fingers underneath a bush and a handful of small berries fell into my palm: a few hard, light-green or deep-red berries, but most were dusty blue. The air was sweet and heady and the clouds, grey and low like a blanket, weighed on the hillside. The leaves, green and stiff like scales, scratched my skin as I reached hand after hand into the thick brush. Before long, my bucket was half-full. We took a lunch break on a rock set high above the blueberry barrens. My mother unzipped her backpack and took out a loaf of bread and a wedge of sharp cheese. I took a handful of blueberries from my bucket and released them in a small pile before us. My mother took one and rolled it between her index finger and thumb scrutinizingly. It was small and perfect, even bead-like, and wore a crown like a flower opposite the stem. "The wild ones are so much tangier," she said, popping the berry into her mouth. "You can really taste what makes it a blueberry." My mother sat in thought while I practiced sucking the insides from the wild berries so that just the tart skin wrapped around my teeth. Looking over at me, she started to laugh. "Oh Gracie, you're all blue!" "What do you mean?" I asked, defensive. I picked up her reflective sunglasses and studied my face. Sure enough, my lips and teeth— and a good deal of my mouth— were stained deep purple from the berries. I laughed. My mother sighed, leaning back and looking into the grey sky. The granite was littered with smooth rocks that had been thrown up by the river. I watched as she took one of these rocks in her hands, an egg-shaped COLLEGE OF THE ATLANTIC MAGAZINE

stone that had been warmed by the sun, and placed it in on her t-shirt in the center of her belly. She took another stone and solemnly positioned it on her sternum, continuing up the rest of her body until, after she had found a round pebble for the hollow of her neck, she balanced the last slender rock on the gentle slope of her forehead. "What are you doing?" I giggled. "Sending a message to your father," she said softly.

here was a time when she hadn't talked about it. She hadn't talked much at all, allowing the confluence of her pain and fear to break the boat of language, gushing with enough force to smash anything that ventured into her waters. I could not look her in the eye at such times. I was afraid that my gaze would break the wall she had so carefully constructed around herself. It had happened before, just a year earlier, when I asked one too many questions about my father. "Can't you think before you speak?" she had snarled. Restraining herself, she lowered her voice and said, "You need to realize that it's hard for me to think about." "I want to know about him!" I had protested. Summing up as much resentment as I could, I closed my eyes and spat, "You act like he was never even here." "That's enough," she snapped. Furiously she walked down the hallway, and I heard the apartment door slam before her footsteps hurried down the fire stairs. In the wake of her anger, Alicia and Benny toddled out of their room, confused and frightened. It must not have been five minutes before my mother reappeared, but it felt like an hour. She opened the door, her eyes red and puffy. "I'm sorry," she said, bending down to hug me. I allowed myself to relax in her arms, trying to COLLEGE OF THE ATLANTIC MAGAZINE

memorize the scent of her hair, the specific softness of the skin of her neck. Alicia and Benny clung to her skirt, and she knelt to comfort them quietly. I tangled my fingers in her hair, leaned over the slope of her shoulder and pressed my chin against her collarbone, but could not douse the ache that shuddered through my entire body. Wisps of sorrow rode her shoulders and twined around her fingers, and still she held us.

watched while my mother carefully placed rocks up her whole body. The taxonomy of loss is written in an alluvial field: stone rounded to the smoothness of water, water hardened to the heft of stone. It was the first time that she had shown anything but stoicism while talking about his passingâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;a coldness that had hurt me, seeming nonchalant or irreverent. I could not remember much about my father. I hadn't realized that after seven years my mother was still nursing a hole inside of her as deep as the lake itself. She lay there in silence for a long time. I looked up at the sky and tried to imagine what my life would have been like if my father hadn't died. I do not know how long we lay there, only that when I finally

opened my eyes, she had gone to fetch our lunch containers. They had blown across the blueberry barrens in the rising wind. "We should go," she called, starting to walk back towards me. I buckled my life jacket and jogged down to the shoreline to clamber into the boat. Stowing the pail of blueberries between my legs, I dug my paddle in the water and we inched away from the shore. It was a cold, hard paddle across the lake, and we were both tired and shivering as we struggled against the damp headwind. As we approached the opposite shore, the wind shifted and began to pummel our small canoe on the broadside. The waves slapped against the side of the boat, and we rocked dangerously from side to side. "Keep paddling, Grace!" my mother shouted, her voice faint over the gale. I dug my paddle into the water furiously, but it was thrown aside. As I leaned to recover, the wind grabbed the bow of the boat, already unbalanced because of our weight difference, and tipped us on our side. I screamed and heard my mother shouting "Swim!" And then I was knocked into the water underneath the canoe. My arms flailed and I tried to surface, but the seat of the canoe blocked my 39

way. My life vest kept me pinned beneath the boat until I wrenched myself out and gasped for air. My feet were numb, and I struggled to move them. A few yards away, my mother stood up in the waves. I then realized that my legs had sunk deep into mud. The metal pail bobbed up and down next to me, empty. Wrenching my legs from the muck, I tried to stand and immediately fell over. My mother waded towards me, pulling the canoe by a painter line. We dragged the canoe onto the shore, and then broke through the few meters of brush to reach the road. The house wasn't far.

nce at home, I sank onto my bed and slept until Alicia woke me for dinner. Walking into the kitchen, I saw my siblings clustered around the counter where my grandmother had set a familiar candle, as she had for the past seven years. I hastened to join them, and my mother struck a match, cupping her hands around the wick. "El maleh rachamim shochen bam'romimâ&#x20AC;Ś" began my grandmother. I bowed my head, remembering the old words as she spoke them, remembering a time when the candle burned for a week, when my mother wept with her face to the wall. Because after thatâ&#x20AC;&#x201D; nothing. She must have dammed up a Dead Sea inside herself with all of the tears she held back. She must have felt like the Dust Bowl. "â&#x20AC;Ś lenishmat Paulâ&#x20AC;Ś" My father's name, the only time it was spoken aloud. "â&#x20AC;Ś b'shalom al mishkavo V'nomar, Amen." "Thank you, Paul," she said softly. "We miss you." My siblings murmured their assent. Finally my grandmother looked up. "I can't think of a better way to celebrate your father than to eat his favorite foods. To the table, you

three," she said, easing me, Alicia, and Benny along with a gentle hand.

slept dreamlessly and easily that night, waking to sun streaming through the window. I spent the morning at the library with my grandmother and didn't see my mother until we were home from lunch. I was using a butter knife to hack away at the candle wax, which had hardened to the kitchen counter, when I QRWLFHG P\ PRWKHU V QDNHG Č´QJHU while she rolled out crust for my grandmother's pie. Her wedding ring was gone. I felt a stabbing pain in my stomach, but didn't quite know why. I pulled myself closer on my elbows to be sure that the ring really was gone, that I wasn't mistaken. "Be careful with that knife, love," she said. "Mom, what happened to your ring?" "Oh?" She absently ran her Č´QJHUV RYHU KHU OHIW KDQG Î&#x2013; GRQ W know. Where it went, I mean. I think LW PXVW KDYH IDOOHQ RÎ? LQ WKH ODNH "When we swamped the canoe?" She shrugged. "Where could I have left it? I don't normally take it RÎ? I thought about the lake; the rusty water holding the last traces of the old riverbed, the buried town, and now, my parents' marriage. The old lump started WR VZHOO LQ P\ WKURDW OLNH D Č´QJHU pressing on my windpipe. She laid her hand on my shoulder. "It's okay. It was just a ring." "No it wasn't!" She stared at me for a minute. "I can't believe you're not upset about this." "I am, believe me. But Graceâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;" She stopped for a moment, thinking, and then said, "Our losses are our own." She glanced at me as if to see my reaction, and then went on without looking at me, as if she

wasn't quite sure if what she was saying was true, but felt that it must be said. "Sometimes we feel as if we have to scoop up all the worries of the people who are dearest to us. To hold their pain so that they won't have to, or because it looks like they don't want to. "But it doesn't work that way," she went on heavily. "You can't sustain it. Don't try to take it from me, Grace. You're not being fair to yourself."

t that moment, I understood that there were things she discussed with my grandmother while I lingered underwater; questions which would become central to my own life. Later, I ZRXOG Č´QG ZRUGV IRU WKH WKRXJKW that she could not express: the heart's movement to sorrow is a loop force, a waterwheel turning over the inevitable trajectory of experience. A river will shift its course a thousand times and never settle, reclaim ancient channels ZLWKLQ LWV ČľRRGSODLQV EUHDN LWV RZQ banks to get to the sea. Mistakes are our inheritance; we keep having to learn the same things over and over again. During an afternoon spent looking out at the water from the lake house porch, I had asked my grandmother why she always told me the same stories. "I'm telling you so that you'll UHPHPEHU VKH VDLG DW Č´UVW turning her head to blow a stream of smoke over her shoulder. "But if \RX UH JHWWLQJ GLÎ?HUHQW PHDQLQJV out of them every time, am I really repeating them?" Eloise Schultz '16 has had her poetry published in A Clean, Well-Lighted Place and Instructor Magazine. A version of this story appeared in Terrain.org on November 10, 2013, the winner of the journal's annual Č´FWLRQ FRQWHVW

COLLEGE OF THE ATLANTIC MAGAZINE

POETRY FOOTSTEPS Tell me, do you remember the day I fell IDFH Č´UVW RÎ? WKH GHFN the tarp blue and billowing EH\RQG LWV HGJH" <RX Č´[HG PH XS with a colorful bandaid DQG VQDSSHG D SLFWXUH VR Î&#x2013; WRR FRXOG DVVHVV WKH GDPDJH DQG Î&#x2013; OLNHG WKH VZROOHQ ZRXQG of my eye, the way it matched WKH ČľRUDO RI P\ VXPPHU GUHVV

"Footsteps" is part of a collection of poems Lea Bushman '15 is writing for her senior project, "An Exploration of Writing: Practicing Creative Expression Through Poetic Form."

<HDUV ODWHU Î&#x2013; FRXOG KDYH VZRUQ Î&#x2013; FDXJKW D JOLPSVH RI KHVLWDQFH LQ \RXU H\HV EHIRUH Î&#x2013; ZDONHG DZD\ into my eighteenth DXWXPQ 'R \RX UHPHPEHU" :DLW 2QH VHFRQG WZR Any damage I let VFDU P\ ERG\ QRZ LV PLQH WR KHDO 7KH GLVWDQFH EHWZHHQ XV LV PDUNHG E\ WKH QXPEHU RI IUR]HQ IRRWSULQWV Î&#x2013; YH OHIW EHKLQG %XW VRPHKRZ IUDJPHQWV RI \RX VWLOO VWLFN WR WKH VROHV RI P\ VKRHV HYHU\ZKHUH Î&#x2013; JR Î&#x2013;W GRHVQ W VXUSULVH PH DQ\PRUH the way we blend together LQ RXU ZRRO VZHDWHUV PXG FDNHG ERRWV IRRWVWHSV KDSKD]DUG \HW VWHDG\ KHDUWV DOZD\V KHDOLQJ Î&#x2013;W PDNHV PH dizzy, how much of you Î&#x2013; YH EHFRPH 6WLOO VRPHWLPHV ZKHQ P\ H\HV DUH FORVHG DQG Î&#x2013; YH H[KDXVWHG HYHU\ RXQFH RI VDQLW\ ZLOOLQJ WKH PRRQOLJKW FORVHU WR P\ VNLQ Î&#x2013; IDOO DVOHHS LQ WKH PHPRU\ RI \RXU YRLFH KXPPLQJ JRRGQLJKW VRQJV

ALUMNI NOTES 1978

Jackson Gillman's off-Broadway debut of The Magic of Rudyard Kipling: "Just So" at the United Solo Theatre Festival, celebrating the 150th anniversary of Kipling's birth, received a Best Educational Show award. That repertoire is also performed during his annual Rudyard-in-Residence at Kipling's historic Brattleboro, VT home where Jackson offered Springboards for Stories, a workshop for the development of personal stories, jacksongillman.com.

1980

Canada. We will be here at sunrise."

1992

Last summer, Jeffrey Miller and his wife, Lotte Schlegel, became foster parents to toddler twins. After 25 years as a biking and walking advocate, Jeff stepped down in March from his role as president/CEO of the Alliance for Biking & Walking to explore new opportunities. He is at JefffreyBCMiller@gmail.com or on Twitter at @JeffreyBCMiller.

1993 Helen and former faculty member Roc Caivano, Polly and Mel Cote, former administrative dean, and Jonathan and Nina (Zabinski) Gormley '78 paused for a group photo on the first of seven days in Paris. Writes Helen, "Three early generations of COA: the Cotes were the first administration, Caivano early faculty, Gormleys early students. And now we're all mixed up together enjoying each other's company while exploring the world."

1986

Paul Kozak and two other downeast carvers were invited to create a snow sculpture for the 2015 Quebec Winter Carnival. Writes Paul, "Minus 23 celsius at 3:30 Sunday morning. Sweating and trying to stay dry. If I stop I will fall. Everybody has gone in for the night except for Team Maine and Team 42

Museum, is now curator of exhibitions at the Norman Rockwell Museum in Stockbridge, MA. Jesse had curated many of the Warhol Museum's traveling and in-house exhibitions, including "Andy Warhol: Portraits" (the most comprehensive survey of the artist's portraitures) and "Heroes and Villains: The Comic Book Art of Alex Ross," which traveled to the Norman Rockwell Museum in 2012.

1998

Jasmine Tanguay left her position at CLF Ventures to spend more time with her young sons and start a solo consulting practice, Contextuality. She hopes to help individuals and families create meaningful, empowered arrangements for their end-oflife transitions, and align these plans with personal values, including environmental principles such as conservation, nutrient cycling, voluntary simplicity, and sustainability. Jasmine is also exploring ideas of sustainable legacy planning to create lasting benefits to both the people and the planet.

2000 Jenny Rock returned from New Zealand last fall to attend and present at the Society for Human Ecology conference at COA, and to marry her Kiwi partner, Trevor Gibson, in the old apple orchard on the Troy, ME farm where she grew up. Says Jenny, "Several bushels of '93-'94 alumni and a peck of faculty joined family and other friends in an unforgettably warm ceremony." Sarah McDaniel, in photo, served as the celebrant.

1997

Jesse Kowalski, former director of exhibitions at The Andy Warhol

Jaime (Duval) Beranek writes, "Longing to get my hands back in the soil, I found a position on an organic farm for the summer of 2014. Located in Garrettsville, OH, just 15 miles from my home, Birdsong Farm is managed by none other than fellow COA graduate COLLEGE OF THE ATLANTIC MAGAZINE

Matt Herbruck '94. He farms 10 acres organically, visits four farmer's markets, and runs a 60-member CSA program. After an amazing growing season, my husband, Rob, and I are recharged about having our own small farm someday!" Before they do, they are moving back to Marquette, on Michigan's Upper Peninsula, as they expect their first baby at the end of June. In the photo, Jamie is second from left; Matt's on the right. Annika Ginsberg graduated from New York University's Robert F. Wagner Graduate School of Public Service with an MPA in health policy. She says, "I would like to report other exciting things, but that has pretty much taken over my life for the last few years. I am really looking forward to finding out what I used to do on the weekends. I know that there was a time when I wasn't reading hundreds of pages and writing papers."

2002

After a five-year stint in Los Angeles working at the Getty Research Institute and The Broad Art Foundation, Joshua Machat accepted a communications post in the art and architecture section of Yale University Press. He can often be found on the Metro North line to New York City and at Frank Pepe Pizzeria Napoletana in New Haven.

2005

Max Coolidge writes, "I have recently become a student and practitioner of a uniquely human systemâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;the lawâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;graduating from the Thomas M. Cooley Law School in Ann Arbor, MI. I now work as a research attorney for the Michigan Court of Appeals, one of the busiest intermediate appellate courts in the country. The law is a big part of our human ecology; it's the rules of our life together, a complicated set of consequences and outcomes designed to right past wrongs and guide future human behavior. COLLEGE OF THE ATLANTIC MAGAZINE

Meanwhile, Jennifer (Wahlquist) Coolidge '03 and I are busy raising our four energetic children, Matthew, 11, Thomas, 8, Gwenna, 6, and Andrew 3. We have recently moved back to Blue Hill, ME, where Jennifer is a birth and postpartum doula while I work remotely. Our children attend the Bay School along with those of quite a few other COA alumni."

2007

On Nov. 20, 2014, a record-cold day in Chicago, Matthew Lavoie and Laura Briscoe welcomed daughter Melita Sophia Linden Lavoie into the world.

Jon Carver, Laura Howes, Sarah Jackson, Mike Kersula, and Julie (Kearney) Taylor '06. Peter Jenkins completed his master's degree in environmental studies with a concentration in environmental education from Antioch University New England, and moved to the Albany, NY area to work with Capital Roots. He is the education coordinator of their youth development and urban farming program.

2010

2008

Amanda Hooykaas, MPhil, was recently inducted into the College of Fellows of The Royal Canadian Geographical Society, one of the youngest fellows in its history. She is the field course developer and adjunct faculty member at the University of Waterloo in Ontario. Her courses include fluvial geomorphology, environmental literature, and conservation and parks management. Amanda frequently brings her undergraduates into secondary school classrooms to lead conversations on geography and the roles that we all play in society. She has recently launched new work in urban wilderness therapy. amandahooykaas.com.

2009

Linda (Mejia) Black was married on Sept. 27, 2014, a gorgeous, warm, fall day. Pictured with Linda are COA friends, Dominique Walk,

Aly Bell was one of five students from the University of Illinois to present at the BOBCATSSS conference, an annual studentorganized symposium on library and information science themes in Brno, Czech Republic. She presented "Talkin' 'Bout Their Generation" on libraries and baby boomers. At the American Library Association midwinter conference in Chicago she was pleased to meet Reading Rainbow's LeVar Burton (above). Dan Rueters-Ward, Cora Lewicki, Meg Barry, Geena Berry, and Sarah Colletti (pictured), continued their tradition of weekend adventures in the mountains of Virginia and east Tennessee. 43

2012

Cora writes, "As COAers often do, we all spread to the winds after graduation. Our little reunions have been a heartwarming, joyful, and precious experience. Our most recent weekend together was in wintertime; we traded in our tent and sleeping mats for a Smoky Mountain cabin and a heck-of-aview hot tub!"

2011

Hazel Stark completed the graduate program at the Teton Science Schools, focused on place-based education and field ecology. She is now working on a professional science master's degree in resource management and conservation at Antioch University New England in Keene, NH. Matt Shaw is in Milan, NY, working at Rhinebeck's Oblong Books and as an adjunct in video at Dutchess Community College. In March, the first issue of his art newspaper, Ramsey Island Mercurial, was part of a group show at Red Hook Community Arts Network. Writes Matt, "Post-production has also (finally) wrapped on a video shot in Bar Harbor almost three years ago. Inspiration for the narrative came from two poems by Jill Piekut, and starred Jill alongside Graham Reeder. Luke Madden was first camera on the shoot; numerous COA alumni were cast in supporting roles or volunteered during production." Stephen Wagner and Cayla Moore '13 are engaged to be married in August, 2015.

Michelle Klein is completing a master's of science program in environmental and life sciences at Trent University in Peterborough, ON. She spent the past two summers conducting fieldwork on Indo-Pacific humpback dolphins in Hong Kong and Taiwan. Her thesis examines the impacts of vessel traffic and underwater noise on these dolphins. After completing her degree, Michelle plans to move to the Phoenix, AZ area where her fiancĂŠ resides. Any leads for employment as a marine mammal observer, environmental consultant, wildlife biologist, and/ or GIS specialist would be greatly appreciated. Meg Trau writes that she, Robin Owings '13, and botany faculty member Nishanta Rajakaruna '94 authored a chapter in the textbook Plant Biodiversity: Present Situation and Future Scenario, titled "Implementing Traditional Ecological Knowledge in Conservation Efforts," to be published by Springer Publications. Meg is engaged to Ray Serrano and is planning a May, 2016 wedding.

2013

Angeline (Annesteus) Charles volunteered with the Catholic Charities of Central Florida, working with young Cuban and Haitian refugees, before heading home to Haiti in August for her wedding. She now works for Telesur as an English correspondent.

2014

As an interpreter of wild encounters and fun at the Cincinnati Zoo and Botanical Garden this summer, Maggie Garcia will offer visitors additional information and opportunities to observe animals. Allison and Kyle Shank welcomed their daughter, Willa Brave Shank, into the world on Sept. 27, 2014. She was born happy, healthy, and

with a full head of hair! They have moved to Harrisburg, PA to be closer to family. Kyle is working for CLEAResult, an international energy consulting company that specializes in the implementation of energy efficiency programs for energy utilities; his work is delivering energy savings to low and limited income households. He will begin a master's degree in mathematics and statistics at Villanova University in the fall.

Join the Black Fly Society! The Black Fly Society was established to make donating to COA's annual fund easier and greener. We hope you'll join this swarm of sustaining donors by setting up a monthly online gift. It's the paperless way to give to COA. Follow the instructions at coa.edu/donatenow, or if you want to give to the annual fund by mail: COA Annual Fund 105 Eden Street Bar Harbor, ME 04609. (Please make checks out to College of the Atlantic.) Questions? Call 207-801-5625.

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DONOR PROFILE

Martie Samek: Passionate about COA Even before trustee Marthann Lauver Samek joined the College of the Atlantic board, she was fascinated by the passion with which other trustees spoke of the college. Now, as a board member since 2011, Marthann—better known as Martie—experiences that same joy and power of connection. The daughter of a teacher, Martie has an extensive background supporting education. She received her teaching credentials at Bucknell University while also double-majoring in English and history, and taught at high schools in Ohio and New Jersey until her three daughters were born. Later, Martie worked for a decade in the development office of a New Jersey private school. A consummate volunteer, Martie served on her local YWCA and United Way boards, and was president of the Junior League, among other involvements. But much of her volunteer energy went toward her alma mater, Bucknell. Currently a trustee emerita, Martie was active for years, chairing the Bucknell development committee, serving on the presidential search and transition committees. She was also president of the alumni association for three terms and a member of the Bucknell parents board, where she and her husband Ed co-founded the Bucknell parents fund. Martie and Ed met at Bucknell and all three children are graduates, so the institution is meaningful to the entire Samek family. Martie joined COA's board just as term limits ended her time as an active Bucknell trustee. "I find it much like loving two children who are very different," she says of the two colleges that capture her devotion. "I am fascinated and appreciative of their differences and I love them equally. One is COLLEGE OF THE ATLANTIC MAGAZINE

traditional and classic, the other creative and innovative." What impresses Martie about COA is the way, she says, "COA takes the academic, theoretical, and intellectual and turns them into active learning and hands-on work. At this moment of transition and scrutiny about the effectiveness and cost of higher ed, COA's handson approach just might be one of the more interesting and viable educational models."

adds, is a powerful example of connecting sound academics with practical, community work for a unique and value-added education experience. Summers are busy in the Samek household, with daughters, sons-in-law, and grandchildren gathering at their Southwest Harbor home. For at least a month, sixteen family members live nearby, arranging meals and outings, or settling in for quiet

"COA takes the academic, theoretical, and intellectual and turns them into active learning and hands-on work." The proof of this approach is in the students. "They're purposeful and focused, and almost all are wonderfully articulate—I think unusually so," says Martie. She recalls the winter board meeting, when Zakary Kendall '17 joined Anna Demeo, director of energy education and management, to speak about the fall course centered on the Danish island of Samsø. "Zak spoke like a thorough professional; he had in-depth knowledge about the project which he relayed with enthusiasm and clarity." That term in Samsø, Martie

conversation. Even so, Martie values her continued engagement with the college, whether as chair of the development committee's priorities sub-committee or as a member of the nominating and presidential review committees. "Each one of these involvements brings me closer and deeper to the center of COA," says Martie. "You might say that now I, too, am passionate about COA!" Above: Martie and Ed Samek enjoy a Maine boat expedition with their eight grandchildren. Photo courtesy of Martie

Samek.

COMMUNITY NOTES Heather Albert-Knopp '99, dean of admission, served out her twoyear limit as president of the board of the Maine Organic Farmers and Gardeners Association, or MOFGA. She remains a member of the executive committee and the board. Previously, Heather served two years as vice president and two as secretary. In November, John Anderson, the William H. Drury Professor of Ecology/Natural History, was called the "pinnacle" of the Rhode Island Natural History Survey's celebration of Natural History Week. He spoke about his 2013 book, Deep Things Out of Darkness: A History of Natural History, and gave a similar talk, "From so Simple a Beginning: a Brief History of Natural History," to Prescott College's Natural History Institute. At the March Science for Parks, Parks for Science conference in Berkeley, CA, John presented the paper "Impact of Sea-Level Rise on Nesting Seabird Colonies within Acadia National Park, Maine." In April he presented "Changes in Gull nesting distribution on Great Duck Island" at the Northeast Natural History Conference in Springfield, MA. Come summer, Molly Anderson, COA's Partridge Chair in Food and Sustainable Agriculture Systems, will be moving to Vermont's Middlebury College where she will be their professor of food studies, coordinating a new food studies program in their undergraduate curriculum and food "tracks" in the international and graduate programs. Says COA President Darron Collins '92, "Selfishly, I want Molly to stay to help us continue to build an excellent program in the human ecology of food. I know I'm not alone, but I can also dig past the selfishness and 46

find that sense of excitement and enthusiasm for Molly as she takes on new challenges and adventures." Molly extends her gratitude to those who have worked with her at COA, and says she will truly miss the stellar students that COA attracts. She is looking forward to life in Vermont, which has some of the best food system innovations in the Northeast. In January, Nancy Andrews, faculty member in performance art and video production, celebrated the world premiere of her first feature movie, The Strange Eyes of Dr. Myes, at the International Film Festival Rotterdam with faculty member Dru Colbert, the film's production designer. Previously, Nancy worked on the movie's color with Rohan Chitrakar '04 and did a final sound mix with Paul Hill and Zach Soares '00. This winter, Nancy's drawings and videos were part of the exhibit On the Mind at Baltimore's Maryland Art Place of the Maryland Institute College of Art. Accompanying the exhibit was a screening of her film On a Phantom Limb and an interview on the Maryland Public Radio station WYPR regarding her art and postoperative, intensive care unit delirium and post-traumatic stress disorder. A podcast is at wypr.org. Rich Borden, COA's Rachel Carson Chair in Human Ecology, received the 2014 Gerald L. Young Book Award in Human Ecology from the Society for Human Ecology for his book, Ecology and Experience: Reflections from a Human Ecological Perspective. Over winter and spring he gave book talks at the Jesup Memorial Library in Bar Harbor, ME and at the University of Georgia's Odum School of Ecology, among other places. Rich has been elected to the council of the Ecological Society of America, and will chair a

special session on "Human Ecology: Portraits from the Pastâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;Prospects for the Future" at ESA's centennial in August.

As part of their quest to hike every continent, Lynn Boulger, dean of institutional advancement, and her husband, Tim Garrity, trekked New Zealand in March. Last September they walked a portion of Turkey's 500 km Lycian Way along its southern coast.

In November, Ken Cline, David Rockefeller Family Chair in Ecosystem Management and Protection, and Zinta Rutins '15 traveled to Sydney, Australia to present "Parks Across the Curriculum: A Multidisciplinary Approach to Protected Area Education" to the World Parks Congress. Held every ten years, the congress is the definitive global forum on protected areas, gathering the most influential people in the field and setting the global agenda for parks for the following decade. Presentations were limited, underscoring further the excitement of Ken and Zinta being asked to describe COA's COLLEGE OF THE ATLANTIC MAGAZINE

We'll miss you Cherie! After seventeen years, Cherie Ford, COA's welcoming presence—who learned every student's name within weeks, whose friendliness single-handedly made us a community—is retiring. We'll all miss her! "Cherie epitomizes what the COA community stands for—a community. She greets everyone with a smile, never hesitates to offer a hug, a listen, or bring on a smile. Hers is the voice that comforts students, staff, and faculty when vans go missing, advisors go rogue, or classes overwhelm. She is extraordinary, with so much love you can't help but be moved by her sincerity. I am certain she has been an integral part of every student's experience." – Brittany Slabach '09 Cherie has been the heartbeat of COA. I will miss her wonderful giggle and treasure all the ways she had her fingers on the pulse of students, staff, and faculty, of Fandangos and birthday celebrations— but most especially her heart and laughter. – Karen Waldron, faculty Smiling, kind, helpful—with a great sense of humor. Trust me! Remember Cherie's choir practices?—staff and faculty gatherings at local pubs. She will be missed! – Jill Barlow-Kelly, staff Cherie is the organizer. We may be a small campus, but there are staff who rarely see each other. Cherie helps us to remember that we are a community. – Marie Stivers, staff I loved working with Cherie! Once in my Bread, Love, and Dreams class we talked about a dream where I was sorting mail back home—the Cherie/Mom archetype. I loved having a staff member care about me every day, even when I wasn't working. – Anna Flanagan '13 "I will never forget the time I called Cherie from an unlisted number pretending to be a loud, obnoxious, non-English eccentric who wanted to know more about "ze College of Man's Eco-logees, and how many eet cost?" Cherie patiently worked with this strange foreigner's cryptic English and almost had me transferred to admissions—until my cover was blown. Our battle of wits lasted many years. I will always value Cherie's friendship and her amazing gift for compassion. I could not imagine a better person to be that first point of contact for a visitor at the college. Who needs a webpage when you have Cherie? My Dearest Cherie, I wish you all the happiness in your retirement, and keep spreading that love of life!" – Sean Todd, faculty

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curricular collaboration with Acadia National Park to an international audience. Later, Ken met with administrators at several Australian national parks and universities to discuss potential student exchanges and graduate opportunities. With Ed Snyder, a Friends Committee lobbyist, Gray Cox, faculty member in political economy and social theory, spoke on "Artificial Intelligence: Promise or Peril" at the Jesup Memorial Library in January. In March, he joined COA Spanish teacher Karla Peña and Polly McAdam '14 in a presentation on COA's innovative Spanish immersion program at the annual conference of the Foreign Language Association of Maine. Later that month, he and several students attended the Friends Committee on National Legislation Spring Lobby Weekend on Climate Action in DC. Visit Gray's website, breathonthewater. com, for songs of love and spirit and two new climate change songs, or find him on YouTube. In January, Anna Demeo, director of energy education and management, spoke about COA's Energy Framework at the National Council for Science and the Environment's national conference on Energy and Climate Change in DC. Both Nina Emlen, admission counselor, and mother to Caleb, 2, and Kate Macko, executive assistant and advisor to the president, and mother to Juniper, 3, sit on the board of directors of Kids' Corner, which offers care for children from six weeks to five years, including those of many of the workers at 47

A Quaker Approach to the Conduct of Research: Collaborative Practice and Communal Discernment By Gray Cox with Charles Blanchard, Geoff Garver, Keith Helmuth, Leonard Joy, Judy Lumb, and Sara Wolcott, Quaker Institute for the Future Pamphlet Series #7, 2014. The Quaker's adherence to attention, listening, and consensus has a powerful resonance with the integrative approach of human ecology, as Gray Cox, faculty member in political philosophy, reflects throughout his recent publication. The approach parallels other forms of gaining knowledge, including scientific research, and, he argues in this excerpt, each can enrich the other: Science works by consensus rather than votes, so the practices of science are closer to those of Quaker practice than Robert's Rules of Order. If opinion is split on a theory because researchers get different results or have different interpretations of them, they work to refine their procedures and share them until they all get similar, repeatable results. They analyze their interpretations until they agree and form a community that shares a common paradigm for practicing what [Thomas] Kuhn refers to as "normal science." If they have trouble finding such procedures or arriving at accord in their interpretations, they may get frustrated and angry. Animosity may even result. But in their role as scientists, they remain obliged to keep looking until some way opens for them to find such procedures or interpretations. They do not pull out their guns to start shooting, and they do not call the question, take a vote, and let the 51 percent determine what is true.

COA, Acadia National Park, The Jackson Laboratory, and other local enterprises. Dave Feldman, faculty member in physics and mathematics, again taught his Introduction to Dynamical Systems and Chaos as a massive open online course, or MOOC, through the Santa Fe Institute's Complexity Explorer Project. He had more than 1,850 students. Beginning in September, he'll be offering Fractals and Scaling as a MOOC. Both classes are based in part on his COA course, Introduction to Chaos and Fractals. To learn more, visit complexityexplorer.org.

Communal discernment, of which the Quaker process is an example, is similar to and compatible with the tradition of mainstream science. Both operate on the conviction that there is an objective truth independent of any individual and that with patience, such truth can be sought and found. In conclusion, Gray calls upon Quaker traditions: In considering how to do research that may offer us the understanding we need to respond to urgent calls to better our world, we have much to learn about how to practice humility, enter silence, and use collective discernment. Quaker and other traditions offer resources for our continued experiments with communal discernment and collaborative research, and assurance that in the silence we can have openings, not only of seeking, but of finding as well. Through continuing revelation, a Presence works through us and comes to offer leadings, guidance, wisdom, and a powerful transforming love.

The Samsø course, co-taught by Jay Friedlander, Sharpe-McNally Chair of Green and Socially Responsible Business, and Anna Demeo, was the focus of two articles in The New York Times, while a third article featured a business boot camp Jay runs with the Fair Food Network for sustainable food entrepreneurs. Jay also spoke about Samsø and the idea of abundance at Forum2100, a consortium for business and energy innovation in Lausanne, Switzerland, and on "Scaling Impact: Social Entrepreneurship Research in Action" at a panel moderated by the executive director of Stanford's Center for Social Innovation for the AshokaU

Exchange in DC. This May, Jay again taught entrepreneurship at Jackson Lab as part of The Whole Scientist course. Donna Gold, COA editor and former public relations director, along with poet and writer Carl Little, also a former COA PR director, wrote essays for J. Fred Woell: Art is an Accident, the 2015 catalog accompanying a major retrospective of the late Deer Isle artist Fred Woell at the Metal Museum in Memphis, TN. Carrie Graham, manager of COA's George B. Dorr Museum of Natural History, continues to volunteer for

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the Mabel Wadsworth Women's Health Center in Bangor, ME. A member of the center's advocacy committee, she helps promote local awareness of reproductive rights and feminist issues. Carrie also donates her illustration and graphic design services to support its educational campaigns. In December, Sarah Hall, the Anne T. and Robert M. Bass Chair in Earth Systems and GeoSciences, presented the poster "Watershed Landscape Ecology: Interdisciplinary and field-based learning in the Northeast Creek Watershed, Mount Desert Island, Maine," authored by Sarah, COA biologists John Anderson and Nishanta Rajakaruna '94, and chemist Don Cass, to the American Geophysical Union meeting in San Francisco. Joining Sarah at the conference was Natasha Krell '16, who presented her work, "Dynamic Pulse-Driven Flowering Phenology in a Semiarid Shrubland." In February, Sarah and colleagues from UC Santa Cruz and the University of Grenoble gathered at the Institute of Earth Science in Grenoble, France, to analyze current data from the Peruvian Andes and Atacama Desert and discuss future projects. While at the institute, Sarah gave the talk, "Surface Processes and the Morphology of the Cordillera Blanca, Peru." Sunblind Almost Motorcrash, a volume of prose poems, or microfictions, reviewing imaginary albums and the imaginary bands that created them, was published this spring by lecturer Daniel Mahoney. He considers his book an investigation into the attempt to use words to describe music. Accompanying the books, which are hand-bound by Spork Press of Tuscon, AZ, is an audio cassette of real bands playing the fake albums.

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Nishanta Rajakaruna '94, faculty member in biology, adjunct biology faculty Fred Olday, and Nathaniel Pope '07 co-authored the poster, "Lichens of the New Idria Serpentine Mass, San Benito County, CA," for the California Native Plant Society's 2015 Conservation Conference. Nishi also gave a seminar on serpentine ecology at the School of Biology & Ecology of the University of Maine, Orono, on "Serpentine: Evolutionary ecology of a model system," and presented "Serpentine Geoecology of Eastern North America: Current knowledge and information gaps" to the Northeast Natural History Conference in Springfield, MA. Also presenting were Paul Excoffier '15 on vernal pool bryophytes, Natasha Krell '16 on yarrow and St. John’s Wort (with Hilary Rose Dawson '18), Porcia Manandhar '16 on herring gulls, Ian Medeiros '16 on serpentine biota, and Bik Wheeler '09, MPhil '15 on warblers. Biology faculty member Steve Ressel gave the illustrated talk, "Stories in the Snow: Uncovering Nature in Winter," at the Jesup Memorial Library in February, a miniature view into his Winter Ecology course highlighting some Maine wildlife winter adaptations. In November, Doreen Stabinsky, faculty member in global environmental politics, traveled to Asunción, Paraguay to speak to the Global Forest Coalition international strategy meeting on unsustainable livestock and feed production. In December, she led the COA delegation to the 20th Conference of the Parties of the UN Framework Convention on Climate Change in Lima, Peru. She gave a keynote lecture to the Baltic University Programme student conference in Rogów, Poland in April, and a keynote address to the

World Wildlife Fund Climate Savers Annual Meeting in Gothenburg, Sweden in May. (See page 5.) Bonnie Tai, education faculty member, chairs the board of Next Step Domestic Violence Project. She also led a faculty workshop on honoring cultural diversity for the Blue Hill, ME, Bay School this spring. Fresh from serving as a guide to the Antarctic Peninsula for the expedition cruise vessel M/V Seabourn Quest, Sean Todd, the Steven K. Katona Chair in Marine Sciences, began developing an 18-hour DVD-based course on oceans and marine mammals for The Great Courses for a 2017 release date. Also, Sean and Allied Whale researcher Peter Stevick '81 co-authored the paper by Jacqueline Bort, MPhil '11 published in January in Endangered Species Research, "North Atlantic Right Whale Eubalaena glacialis vocalization patterns in the central Gulf of Maine from October 2009 through October 2010." In April, Karen Waldron, Lisa Stewart Chair in Literature and Women's Studies, chaired the Sherlock Holmes panel of the Popular Culture Association conference in New Orleans, LA, and presented "Using the Sidekick in the Feminist Cause? Laurie R. King's Mary Russell and Sherlock Holmes." In early May she co-chaired the Literary Landscapes as Imagined Places panel of the Northeast Modern Language Association in Toronto, Canada, and presented "Assembling California: Frank Norris' Multilayered Landscapes in McTeague and The Octopus." Later that month she presented "Twelve Strange Men: Race, Ethnicity, and Gender in Zora Neale Hurston's Trial" at the American Literature Association in Boston.

Plant Ecology and Evolution in Harsh Environments Edited by Nishanta Rajakaruna '94, Robert S. Boyd, and Tanner B. Harris '06 Nova Science Publishers Inc., November, 2014 )DFXOW\ PHPEHU LQ ELRORJ\ 1LVKDQWD 5DMDNDUXQD DQG SDUWQHUV LQFOXGLQJ 7DQQHU +DUULV JDWKHU UHFHQW Č´QGLQJV on the ecology and evolution of plants and other non-animal organisms in harsh environments for this edited volume. &DOOLQJ LW D ZLGH UDQJLQJ FROOHFWLRQ RI UHFHQW VFLHQWLČ´F ZRUN RQ KRZ SODQWV DGDSW WR VWUHVV DQG KRZ VWUHVV VKDSHV KLJKHU order outcomes in evolution, ecology, and conservation," Susan Harrison of the University of California Davis notes in the journal Madorno, "anyone interested in how the world's more challenging terrestrial environments contribute to biological GLYHUVLW\ ZLOO Č´QG PXFK WR HQULFK WKHLU NQRZOHGJH LQ WKLV ERRN 7KH IROORZLQJ H[FHUSW ZULWWHQ E\ WKH HGLWRUV LV DGDSWHG from the concluding chapter. Alpine summits, polar regions, arid deserts, remote RFHDQLF LVODQGV VDOLQH ČľDWV DFLGLF ERJV URFN RXWFURSV and even wastelands created by human activities such as mining, all provide extreme habitats for plants and other biota adapted to harsh abiotic factors. Such habitats are characterized by extremes in temperature, light, water availability, and chemical and physical soil attributes. Adaptation to such environments often leads to SRSXODWLRQ GLÎ?HUHQWLDWLRQ and subsequent speciation, thereby generating biodiversity. Harsh environments also often provide a refuge for species which may be at a competitive disadvantage in more benign habitats. Whether through adaptive evolution or exaptation (i.e., ecological Č´OWHULQJ KDUVK HQYLURQPHQWV often contain a unique assemblage of plants and other biota able to thrive under conditions inhospitable for most other organisms. â&#x20AC;˘â&#x20AC;˘â&#x20AC;˘ The intimate and inseparable relationship between plants and their substrates results from the need for plants to obtain water and nutrients from the substrate upon which they grow. Thus, it is no surprise that the chemical and physical attributes of the substrate control many aspects of plant diversity, ecology, and evolution. Plants closely associated with harsh substrates have been described as indicators of the minerals and elements found within the substrate, and close observation of such substrate-plant relations has led to biogeochemical prospecting worldwide. Studies of the diversity, physiology, genetics, ecology, and evolution of plants found on extreme substrates

have generated much interest in recent years. â&#x20AC;Ś Plants associated with unique geomorphologic features such as mountains and deserts have also been the subject of much study due to their unique assemblages of plant species possessing adaptations to climatic extremes and other abiotic and biotic stressors. Such plants have also served as models for elucidating mechanisms of convergent evolution, showing how similar functional and phenotypic diversity can be maintained among phylogenetically distinct lineages in response to similar selective pressures. â&#x20AC;˘â&#x20AC;˘â&#x20AC;˘ Harsh environments are important biological resources and represent some of the most promising frontiers in the study of ecology and evolution. They are important depositories IRU D VLJQLČ´FDQW SRUWLRQ RI life's diversity, they illustrate how organisms respond to environmental challenges, and they provide resources important to both human society and other life on earth. We can also learn much about basic biological, ecological, and evolutionary principlesâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;including natural selection, adaptation, and coevolutionâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;from studies that focus on plant and other life found in harsh habitats. This knowledge can be employed in numerous biotechnological applications EHQHČ´FLDO WR KXPDQ VRFLHW\ 7KLV ERRN EXLOGV RQ WKH current interest in plants and other organisms found in harsh environments and shows the importance of harsh environments to current and future research in all aspects of plant biology, ecology and evolution, and the conservation and restoration sciences.

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IN MEMORIAM

William R. (Bill) Booth May 9, 1919–November 10, 2014

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The Bagel Hole By Donna Gold Agnes Smit, who fed generations of COA students, bicycling and even sledding her freshly baked bagels to campus by seven-thirty each morning, has shut the oven of the Bagel Factory and walked down its rickety wooden steps one last time. At age 79, Agnes has retired. There may be many origin stories for the Bagel Factory; the one Agnes told me in April was that she was heading to Acadia National Park to meet her sister one day and passed by a Cottage Street bakery that had been started by Amy Goodman ('79), of Democracy Now!, along with Charles Hutchinson, an original Greenpeace rainbow warrior. Amy had taken a leave from Radcliffe College to be a visiting student at COA and then stayed on in Bar Harbor. Said Agnes, "I looked in the window and I thought, 'these people are in trouble.' I figured my sister could wait, so I went in and showed them a few things and they said to me, 'you can have this bakery if you want.'" That was years before Agnes opened the Bagel Factory on the Bar Harbor alleyway known as Cadillac Avenue. A bout with cancer intervened, as did stints cooking at various locales on Mount Desert Island, including one at COA in the mid-nineties. But once Agnes opened the Bagel Factory, she baked and cooked and prepared sandwiches nearly every day for years, musing, scolding, weaving bits of philosophy into life stories. Somewhere in there, she found time to deliver her bagels. "When you see your customers you have a lot more information—it's pretty much the same with COA." So what fills the hole left by Agnes' bagels? "Agnes is a hard act to follow," says Lise Desroches, co-director of food services, "Granola consumption is up."

April, 2014, facebook.com/collegeoftheatlantic.

"The only way that I have learned is by mistakes. I might have an idea … you look at it and you go, something's wrong? It looks ok … I wonder. The next time I try the other thing." from the documentary by Navi Whitten '16, The Baker, Agnes

"The Baker, Agnes," a short documentary created by Navi Whitten '16, is available at vimeo.com.

COLLEGE OF THE ATLANTIC MAGAZINE

2015 Summer Events at College of the Atlantic

June 26 at 5:30 p.m. Film Screening Tale of the Tongs with Judith and Stanley Hallet. -XO\ DW D P &RÎ?HH &RQYHUVDWLRQ "MDI Clean Energy Partners" with energy specialist William Osborn and COA's Anna Demeo. -XO\ DW S P 3UHVLGHQWČ&#x2021;V &LUFOH /HFWXUH Glenstone: An evening with Mitch and Emily Rales. -XO\ IURP D P WR S P 6KHUU\ *H\HOLQ /XQFKHRQ "Growing and Cooking the Year-Round Harvest" with author and farmer Barbara Damrosch. -XO\ DW D P &RÎ?HH &RQYHUVDWLRQ "The Growing Economic Gap." Historian and COA trustee David Hackett Fischer and COA's Davis Taylor discuss Thomas Piketty. -XO\ DW S P $Q (YHQLQJ ZLWK *HRUJH 0LWFKHOO Co-hosted by Acadia Senior College and COA Summer Programs. By limited invitation only. -XO\ DW D P &RÎ?HH &RQYHUVDWLRQ "Implications for Investors" with COA board chair Will Thorndike of Housatonic Partners and COA's Lynn Boulger. -XO\ DW D P &RÎ?HH &RQYHUVDWLRQ Euphoria. Author Lila King discusses her novel on Margaret Mead with President Darron Collins '92. July 23 from 5:30 to 7:30 p.m. Opening Reception 2 Island Friends, 2 Points of View Blum exhibit of sculptor Katie Bell and painter Clay Kanzler. -XO\ DW D P &RÎ?HH &RQYHUVDWLRQ "The Impact of the Allan Stone Chair" with photographer Clare Stone and Catherine Clinger, Allan Stone Chair in the Visual Arts. $XJXVW IURP WR S P 5HFHSWLRQ Annual reception for The Champlain Society members.

$XJXVW IURP WR S P )DPLO\ $ 5HDGLQJ Readings by authors Anne Fadiman (Ex Libris: Confessions of a Common Reader) and George Colt (Brothers). $XJXVW IURP WR S P )LOP 6FUHHQLQJ Curious Worlds: The Art and Imagination of David Beck with Č´OPPDNHU 2O\PSLD 6WRQH $XJXVW DW D P &RÎ?HH &RQYHUVDWLRQ "Investing in Maine" with Slow Money Maine board member and No Small Potatoes co-founder Eleanor Kinney and COA trustee Ron Beard. $XJXVW IURP WR S P *DUGHQ 7DON "Designing with Plants the Great Dixter Way" with Great Dixter head gardener Fergus Garrett. Co-hosted by the Land & Garden Preserve. $XJXVW IURP WR S P 7DON "The Roosevelt Administration and the Holocaust" with Ralph Nurnberger, Georgetown professor. $XJXVW DW D P &RÎ?HH &RQYHUVDWLRQ "Music Lessons" with Isaiah Jackson of Berklee College of Music, former music director of the Royal Ballet in London, and COA's John Cooper. $XJXVW IURP D P WR S P )DPLO\ )XQ 'D\ Kid-friendly activities, food, animals, games, more. Peggy Rockefeller Farms. $XJXVW IURP WR S P 7DON "Regenerative Medicine and Human Genome Research" with Nadia Rosenthal, COA trustee, Jackson Laboratory 6FLHQWLČ´F 'LUHFWRU RI 0DPPDOLDQ *HQHWLFV $XJXVW DW D P &RÎ?HH &RQYHUVDWLRQ The Historical Atlas of Maine. UMO's Stephen Horn and COA's Sarah Hall. $XJXVW IURP WR S P &ORVLQJ 5HFHSWLRQ DW WKH %OXP 2 Island Friends, 2 Points of View

$XJXVW IURP WR S P 6FUHHQLQJ 7DON Food for Thought, Food for Life ZLWK Č´OPPDNHU 6XVDQ Rockefeller and David Rockefeller, Jr.

COA also hosts these on-going summer activities:

$XJXVW DW D P &RÎ?HH &RQYHUVDWLRQ "Writing Children's Literature" with children's book writer and artist Ryan Higgins '06 and COA's Katharine Turok.

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Family Nature Camp

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Summer Field Studies for Children

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Summer Field Institute for High School Students

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M/V Osprey Whale Watches

Summer events, many of which are generously sponsored by The Champlain Society (TCS), are subject to change. For locations and other information, visit coa.edu/calendar. *These events are open to TCS members only. For membership information, call Kristina Swanson, 207-801-5621. 53

COA

PERMIT NO. 121

NON-PROFIT U. S. POSTAGE PAID AUGUSTA, ME PERMIT NO. 121

NON-PROFIT U. S. POSTAGE PAID 04330 PERMIT NO. 121

The College of the Atlantic Magazine 105 Eden Street Bar Harbor, ME 04609

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