Minor Victories Over Acrophobia: PART 2

As promised last week, here are some more triumphal anecdotes regarding my fear of heights.

 

This summer, my husband, Dan, and I went on a road trip, to Banff and Jasper National Parks in Canada. 

 

Side Note: It was refreshing being in Canada. For some reason, they don't fly beaten up national flags (or racist flags) off the back of huge ass trucks. The drive through Northern Idaho, however, was frightening . . .

 

Our first day in Banff, we explored Johnston Canyon. The entire out-and-back hike was on a suspended bridge over a canyon. I even stood on the bridge for quite a while, waiting in line to get a selfie in the special waterfall cave. 

 

A friend of ours had recommended this attraction, and he assured me there were nice, solid rails the entire way. And there were, even when the path pulled away from the side of the canyon 😳.

 

 

 

 

 

Next, I rode the Lake Louise Gondola. The gondola was enclosed, and I thought I was doing a pretty good job, anxiety-wise. 

I mean, I snapped, "STOP MOVING!" at Dan a couple of times, but I felt pretty confident . . . until he showed me this video:

 

 

 

When I posted this on Facebook, my friends' comments proved how well they know me. [Edited slightly for brevity and privacy] 

• Always a lover of heights! 
• Hey, that's the same face when you had to go up the stairs on stage, LOL.
• I walked her up the stairs during rehearsals for Chicago. By showtime, her bravery on the way to the gallows was awesome (kind of)!  

I asked Dan how he got this picture at exactly the right moment. 

 

He said this was my expression the entire ride. 

 

But the view was gorgeous. I thought I had enjoyed it! 

For the latest blog updates, visit and "like" Rebecca Turner-Duggan.

Minor Victories Over Acrophobia: PART 1

 

 

I am deathly afraid of heights. This comes as no surprise to my friends, family, and faithful readers of my blog.

It's not a fear that I am particularly anxious to overcome, although, occasionally, I wish it were a little less debilitating. Freezing in my tracks, shaking, and giggling/hyperventilating while suspended on a narrow cliff path are probably not the safest coping mechanisms.

 

However, this summer, I have had a few minor triumphs in my struggle with acrophobia. 

One weekend, while my husband, Dan, was out of town, I went on a couple of solo hikes. The hike I chose the second day was described as winding around side hills with 360 views at the top. I had an inkling as to what I was in for, but it sounded pretty. 

 

About three-quarters of the way through the hike, I rounded a bend and ended up on a narrow side hill trail that seemed to be several hundred feet high. It stretched ahead of me for what looked like miles before switchbacking onto more protected ground. 

 

"This is what my worst, recurring nightmare looks like," I thought. 

 

I knew I couldn't turn back or do my weird, hyperventilate-y thing because I didn't want to embarrass myself in front of the other hikers and bikers on the trails that morning. 

 

Also, if I turned around and didn't continue to follow my map, with my sense of direction, I was sure to get lost.

 

Luckily, I didn't run into anyone on that stretch. They would have wondered why I was so pale and whisper-singing, "Cheer Up, Charlie." (I was performing in Willy Wonka at the time.) 

 

In reality, it only took me a very slow five minutes to make it to the switchback. And the views on top really were beautiful.

 

From my Facebook post: I even navigated some narrow side hills. 😳 The views from on top of the ridges were worth it though.

 

My text to Dan that night read, "There were a few scary, narrow side hills. But I was like, I have to stay on this or I'll get lost. So I looked at the path and put one foot in front of the other. The ridge views were worth it." 

He texted back, "Very brave of you." 

 

I'm pretty sure I noted some sarcasm 🙄. 

 

Don't get me wrong. I didn't overcome anything. I might have been slightly traumatized. 

 

For the next few days, that stretch of trail would pop into my mind's eye, and my heart would thud, my stomach would flip, and my breath would quicken. Even writing about it several weeks later makes me a little jittery.

 

But I got through it and I didn't die. I even enjoyed most of the hike. That has got to be worth something!

 

Coming up next on my blog: a few more minor triumphs (and a bit more vertigo). Stay tuned! 

 

For the latest blog updates, visit and "like" Rebecca Turner-Duggan.

School Year Funnies: Better Late Than Never

 

The school year ended way back in May, and I neglected to post a few of my favorite kiddo anecdotes. 

 

So . . . even though I'm trying to pretend that school doesn't exist for the next four weeks, I thought I would share these stories before August rolls around, and I'm inundated with a new batch of funny/weird/eye-roll-inducing student yarns.

 

There was that one day . . . 

 

I was teaching a Mexican Folk Dance to my first graders. I was partners with one little boy, whom I had chosen strategically. (Fellow teachers, you will know what I mean by this . . . ) 

 

The boy was studying my arm. I thought he might be checking out my freckles. A lot of the littles have never seen so many freckles and aren't sure what they are. Then he started rubbing my arm and, before I could pull away, shaking it.

 

He looked at my jiggling arm and grinned up at me.

 

“Jelly,” he said.

 

There was that other day . . .  

 

"I made you a bracelet," one of my fifth graders said, handing me the mentioned accessory.

 

"Thank you so much," I looked closer at it. "It says 'Zoey.'"

 

"Well, first I made it for Zoey, but she didn't want it." 

 

I don't know who Zoey is, but I have her bracelet now.

 

 

My school choir has the weirdest tradition of singing "mustache" on the half-steps between our choir warm-ups. 

 

I didn't start the ritual, nor did I continue it for the last decade. Somehow, the kids find out about it year after year, and hilarity ensues. 

 

This year, one of my sixth graders showed up wearing a fake mustache, and a new tradition was born. 

 

Their junior high choir teachers are going to LOVE me.  

 

 

 

My choir students also bring me snacks. Sometimes, the snacks are in wrappers. Sometimes, they are pulled from their pockets. 

 

They always ask if I enjoyed them later in the day. I mean, how much do these kids think I eat?

 

It started during the musical because we were rehearsing during my lunch time, and they didn't want me to get hangry. 

 

They know me quite well by the time they reach fifth and sixth grade.

 

Free Coffee Day: You can see the snacks that were left on my desk by the choir kids that morning.

 

The last week of school, we were playing a YouTube game called, "Guess the Disney Voice," and when we got to Snow White's voice, I overheard one second grader whisper to another, "She looks like Mrs. Duggan."

 

 

 

Faithful readers of my blog will remember that this is not the first time my students have said I look like Snow White. 

 

Of course, now I'm pushing 50 and more often compared to their grandmothers. It was nice to know they still see a resemblance.

 

Also at the end of the school year . . .  

 

My choir kids stayed after the pizza party to write me thank you messages on my whiteboard. Other students added their own messages throughout the week.

 

 

The Wings Center sent in a gift with some of our students who are part of their after school program.

 

The note reads, "Thank you for helping kids find their rhythm."  

 

It almost makes me want to go back . . . almost . . . but not quite yet! 

 

For the latest blog updates, visit and "like" Rebecca Turner-Duggan.