I work at a pretty unique museum. It's unique in various ways, from the fact that the operational and organizational structure is unlike anything I've ever experienced or heard of, to the realization I had this summer that most of our visitors aren't coming for the museum, and most of those don't even realize we're there.
One of the defining characteristics is the fact that we're located in a very rural setting, in what has been a public park for far longer than a traditional "historic site". We're also right near a river, which leads to its own challenges, namely the boaters that take shelter in our harbour and insist on playing Shakira at insane decibels while I'm trying to lead a Campfire and Storytelling evening. <sigh>
This year, we had one of those exciting and rare instances where the higher-ups found some extra money for us that we had to spend pronto. We had had guided canoe paddles in the past; let's get a canoe! Awesome!
I'm not going to bore you with the details of the canoe purchase, which was an adventure of its own. Let's just say that I was relieved and happy to finally put the 16' monstrosity in the old stable in preparation for our first paddle in July. It went off without a hitch. One of my staff went with me and we led the one canoe with three paddlers along the shore and told them stories of the development of the area over history, from the ice age to modern times. They had a great time, I had a great time, fun was had by all; so much so that I've already added 4 more paddles to my program plan for 2012.
Fast forward to Sunday. It's cloudy. Slightly windy, but a pretty nice day considering it's mid-September in Canada. We have a good number of registrations; a total of 4 other canoes! I go over my notes and get the house ready, and when my helper (we have a bunch of part-time people on call to help with programming) arrives we put the canoe out and wait.
It goes pretty well until I try to leave the house. "Where did my notes go?! %*#$!" I can't find them but it's too late; I've got to run down to the water and meet our paddlers. We put the canoe in the water and paddle out a bit to let everyone have a chance to get out. "You've canoed before, right?" I ask my helper.
"Sure, a bit. But not in a while."
"Okay, I'll go in back." I say with some authority, "I think the strongest paddler goes in back so they can steer."
See, here's my first mistake. Last time we had no trouble at all. I was in the front because the staff member who was helping me just happened to have spent the last five summers as a councellor at wilderness sleepaway camps. She's led canoe trips and portages. I should have seen it coming.
We couldn't keep up.
No matter what we tried, (and we certainly tried everything we could think of) we couldn't keep up with the people we were supposed to be leading. And I'm not talking about a small lead. No. They were something like 20 to 25, maybe even 30, metres ahead of us.
It was so bad that they had to wait for us. I mean, how am I supposed to lead an interpretive paddle if I'm in the back!?
I was so embarrassed. And angry with myself. People payed for this experience and here we were, their "leaders", not even able to keep up with them. <facepalm>
So the visitors let us catch up and I led a bit. Told a few stories. Thank god I remembered all the information, despite the fact that I forgot my notes. Then it was already time to go back to the house for hot apple cider. We came back and everyone was happy. The paddlers gave us some advice and proceeded to give us awesome reviews on the surveys. They even asked when the next programs were and shook my hand and were so enthused they asked if they could volunteer for me next year.
I was surprised; but I shouldn't have been. I, and I'm sure a lot of you, too, try so hard to be perfect. To present a perfect facade to the public and to colleagues, but that's not realistic. Just like the people whose lives we interpret, we are multi-faceted, complex, and, above all, real people. We can't be good at everything.
Hey, people ram other people's canoes all the time.
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