The front is finished on the Flying Geese gansey. It was politely admired this weekend while I was at camp.
I started teaching my very first basic sailing class this weekend, and my students all did very well. We had great weather, and all that they need to do is test off their skills next weekend.
Learning to sail is pretty hard. If the weather is bad, the students don't get enough time on the water to practice. This weekend, we had to start late on Sunday because of too much wind, and Saturday, cut the session short because the wind and current conspired to sweep our beginners all over the bay. So, all who could sail in were sent to the beach, and the motorboats rounded all the rest up. We had a damaged spar set, and a few freaked out sailors, but all were safe, and the weather was better in the afternoon, so we sailed again, and it was great.
I was leaving feeling very satisfied. In the parking lot there was a mother yelling at her daughter. The girl looked to be pretty young; probably just old enough to take the class. The girl apparently needed to come back next weekend to finish testing out, and to get her card. This is very normal, and the fact that she was invited to come back indicates that she was one of the ones that just ran out of time. The ones who don't seem to be intereested are simply allowed to leave. This mom was screaming about how many times she had to drive to camp, and how this girl should have tried harder. She ended up with how she was tired of wasting her time on this girl, and no more camp, and no more Girl Scouts.
I did nothing. I've had enough parenting challenges to perhaps be over sensitive to people who know nothing about my circumstances to butt in. However, I don't know if I could ever tell my child that I was wasting my time on her. It made me very sad.