Carnegie Currents: January/February 1999 Vol. XIII, No. 1
When They're Not Rowing
In the heat of erg practice, it’s easy to look around and wonder, Who are these people? What do we have in common? Because we only see each other through the lens of the sweaty life that is rowing, we each have stories we make up about each other. Carnegie Currents in this piece submits to the collective need to inquire further, to peel back the layers of spandex and take an intimate look at the lives and stories that exist in the people who make CLRA what it is. Be on the lookout — we might try and catch up with you for the next newsletter.
Sharon Sloan is in her mid-twenties with curly dark hair and quick intelligent eyes. She admits to having had moments in the ER that are boring. But with only four months of medical school left, and tours of duty with the pulmonary, cardiology, trauma and surgical intensive care unit at Robert Wood Johnson Medical School in New Brunswick, she has stories that rival those of a kindergarten teacher. And many of the stories could be from a preschool, because they involve people sticking things into themselves, getting them stuck and claiming it was an accident. Let the imagination flow; it’s all been tried before. "It’s bad to laugh in front of the patients," she explains.
Fate was involved in her choice to study medicine. "I don’t really believe in ‘fate’ but growing up I was sick a lot so I know what it’s like to be a patient." Sharon had asthma as a kid, she lost consciousness because she has an allergy to nuts ("I didn’t know pesto has pine nuts") and she was even shot in the back by a stray bullet. "I treat the patients like real people. When I spend the time to talk and joke around with them, and they say to me later, ‘thanks for being so nice,’ that’s the reward for me."
Sharon is capable, competitive and a clear case of chronic overachievement in its advanced stages. When I caught up with her, she was reading about snakebite treatment in her emergency medicine textbook, a tome thicker than most phone books, all just for fun. In addition to her regular medical school duties she runs volunteer clinics on issues like HIV for homeless people and general health classes for middle school students. She finds time to knit and also interview prospective students for Tufts University, where she rowed as an undergraduate. Living life on a pager and perpetually busy, how does she find time to row? "I can’t imagine not rowing. I tried giving it up and it was torture. It’s an emotional outlet." She is also a master multi-tasker, talking with friends and cleaning at the same time. Her long-term goals involve working at a teaching hospital, hiking in Nepal, learning to surf and learning to SCUBA dive. Maybe she should learn to dive at The Island School in the Bahamas. . .
The Island School is my main social life, work project, love interest and cheap entertainment. Starting about a year ago, I joined Chris Maxey, a teacher at the Lawrenceville School and an ex-Navy Seal, in a quest to start a school on the island of Eleuthera in the Bahamas. The mission of the school is to preserve the ocean through the education of high school students from the U.S. and the Bahamas. And to have a heck of a lot of fun.
By coming on board with The Island School, I also set myself up to be the traditional Lawrenceville teacher (doing far too much and allowing any friendships outside of email to wither on the vine) and I found myself teaching freshman biology and living with 70 senior boys. Having spent five years as a day student at Lawrenceville, enjoying all of the amenities of home, I was left unprepared for the boarding experience; it gives a whole new meaning to the words sleep deprivation. But I never imagined anyone could be so happy doing work. It’s like rowing for me. Both involve pain that feels good. I am in the fortunate situation that I am both young and stupid, which predisposes me to doing things like driving from Princeton to the Bronx in under 70 minutes (I set my alarm wrong) and driving from Boston to Princeton in nine hours (it was Labor Day Friday), all in to get the name of presenting The Island School to students at more than 40 schools.
The response is tremendous, but the typical parent and even cynical teacher will ask if the program is only for those who can afford it and if the students actually do work. Students do lots of hands-on work in the aquaculture research field station weighing and measuring fish, in the field comparing ecological patterns across habitats while kayaking or scuba diving, and on land exploring the site of an ancient Arawak settlement. Scientists from the Smithsonian and MIT are helping our students this spring conduct an archaeological survey of the settlement site as part of the history course. Students take the normal high school classes in math, Spanish, history, English and science, and our intention is to challenge the students to work harder than they have ever worked before. Compared to some students I have seen, that should not be difficult. The word sloth comes to mind. But we are accepting only the most motivated students, based on merit. In order to see that those accepted can afford to attend, The Island School is launching a 2.5 million dollar fundraising campaign to establish a scholarship foundation and finish building the campus, which will double in capacity from 24 to 48 beds in a year. Then we will be able to host at least eight full crews in the first annual Cape Eleuthera regatta.
My favorite moment from CLRA so far has been during my first race at the Christina River Sprints. I tried to encourage my fellow boatmates by yelling during our race. The cox rightly yelled at me to shut up and row. If I was cheering, I wasn’t putting everything I had into pulling. The passion and drive consistently exerted to make boats go fast is not something you see every day. To me, it is special. But I find that at my work, the same kind of passion exists and that is worth holding on to, even when it means I will be away in the Bahamas for ten weeks this spring. My future aspirations include graduate study in marine ecology, getting trained as a diving instructor and wilderness EMT, writing a book, getting a pilot’s license, coordinating all of the 1999 regattas and rowing on the national team. Then after next week I'll probably get around to my laundry.
— Christian Henry
Editor’s Note: Christian Henry joined CLRA as a novice rower in January 1998.