Dear Reader,

I don't know about you but I've loved cooking ever since I can remember. At age seven, I made a chocolate cake.... in a frying pan... on the occasion of a visit by my grandmother. It may or may not have been edible but it's the thought that counts, right? And it set me on a course by which, through trial and error over many years, I've become more adept, confident and creative in the kitchen. So much so that various friends and family members have wondered whether or not I may have missed a calling to be a professional chef. Now, if you've ever worked in a restaurant (I've bussed, waitered and bartended over the years) you'll know that it can be a bit of a grind. And as much as I learned from the chefs whose dishes I delivered to the table I'm glad to have avoided life in the pro kitchen. No tantrums, awkward meetings about food costs or Philistine customers slathering my Osso Bucco in ketchup. Instead, I cook for pleasure. I cook with my partner. We cook for others and for each other as a quotidian expression of love. The kitchen becomes both a sanctuary and a playground - a creative outlet without the consequences or pressures of a business.

My experience in sharing my Six String Nation project has given me a similar perspective on teaching.

I've been asked to take part in this year's UnPlug'd event because the presentation I do about my project puts me in front of a lot of teachers - in classrooms and workshops and conferences and there is a part of what I do that must look a bit like teaching (though I confess for me it's really just storytelling) so it seems to resonate with teachers.

It's true that my confidence in presenting my project has increased since I began. My mastery of the tools has grown. And my "feel" for the story has deepened, worn smooth and comfortable with use. But, perhaps most importantly, I have developed a sense of where it is that the story meets the audience, the vacuum into which it rushes, the gaps it plugs, the niche in which it sits with different people in different ways.
And this - I don't need to tell you - is where the real "juice" of teaching comes from: the connection to other hearts and minds. What a thrill, what a privilege: to help someone else make sense of something, to be able to provide them with the piece of an incomplete puzzle, to reframe a portrait as a landscape for a new perspective on a problem, to be an opener of doors or even - for the real true masters - to be a window.

My guess is that if you're reading this, then you're hooked on that same juice. And more importantly that you're dedicated to the craft of teaching and to the students that craft is meant to serve. And for that I applaud you. From my brief experience teaching first year college students - and from the various tiny windows I get into the lives of teachers - I know that the challenges can be huge and the endorphin rushes hard fought and maybe less frequent than you'd like. But that's what makes you top chefs and me just a gifted home cook. You are there in the heat of it day after day, providing both the basic nourishment and the richly layered experience of your craft. In that spirit, I offer my Six String Nation project as an amuse-bouche to the feast of this weekend and my thanks for inviting me to participate with you all.

Jowi Taylor