Preparing to launch: The countdown has begun!

We are officially launching EnRich Coaching for Educators next Wednesday, on the 25^th May! This is not my first launch experience, but it’s by far the most eagerly anticipated!

“Launch” is an active word, which may be used as a verb or a noun. I do love a dictionary definition, so here is one from the Cambridge Dictionary:

• to begin something, such as a plan, or introduce something new, such as a product 
• to send something out, such as a new ship into the water or a spacecraft  into space
• to jump with great force

My previous launch experiences have tended to fall into the third category. For example, as an awkward teenager, trying to be cool, I was lounging on the back seat of a kombi that was being driven by one of the actual cool kids by the distinctly uncool name of Ken. Headed towards a group of 70s-era would-be hippies, our compatriots, he seized the chance to show off. Revving the engine like a madman, he hurtled at top speed towards the throng and slammed on the brakes just before he turned them into a mish-mash of bell-bottoms, platform shoes and geometric swirls.

It was at that point launching came into it.  My body launched itself the full length of the kombi, and I face-planted into the dashboard. It was similar to launching a spacecraft into space … I saw stars!

I experienced another launch when I was in my early thirties … and still working on being cool. My friend, a willowy blonde slip of a thing, took me jet-skiing on the Vaal Dam, a popular destination for the aspiring-to-be-rich folk in Johannesburg who owned a boat or other water craft. Jill was not part of that social circle but she had a jet-ski, which she towed behind her family banger. She got it into the water, settled herself astride the front part of the elongated seat, and started the motor. She looked like a Bond woman – all blowy blonde hair, wearing a racy bikini, and smiling into the wind … The plan was for me to launch myself from the little deck on shore onto the back part of the seat and cling onto Jill, who would then accelerate into the blue beyond.

Sadly, we didn’t take my God-given child-bearing hips, generous torso proportions and ample bosom into consideration. I launched myself like a flying whale – arms and legs akimbo ready to embrace the machine – and landed with my upper body on the edge of the jet-ski and my bounteous booty paying homage to the African sky. Jill accidentally hit the accelerator and, as the back end of the jet-ski plunged beneath my unbalanced weight, the front end reared, flinging Jill skyward while I slid into the waters of the Vaal dam and sank like a stone.

By my late fifties I had given up on trying to be cool, but I still had another jump-with-great-force style of launch in me. My step-daughter kindly offered to pay me to take my teenage granddaughter and my daughter, Heather, away for a week. “You’ll love it,” she said. “It’ll be fun,” she said. Well, Carry on Camping had nothing on us – and the experience peaked when the girls hit upon the idea of an outing to the Splashdown Waterpark.

Now, tube-riding a giant flume and being supersonically ejected at the final pool is fabulous when one is young. But I failed to read the room – all the other grannies and grandpas were in the café section, sipping tea and doing crosswords – so I gaily leapt into the water. Getting onto the beast of a tube was my first challenge. After numerous hefty pushes Heather eventually hauled me up and on, and the rapids sped us away to the first pool. To the rowdy delight of a crowded balcony of spectators I tumbled head over rear through the swirling vortex. And despite the best efforts of two skinny teenagers I could not heave my chunky middle-aged body back onto the pink tube. I thought I’d drown when I clunked my head on the flume wall, but I rallied enough to jam my rear end into the tube just in time to launch myself, with a warrior cry (a wail of sheer terror in reality) into the final stage – the Mega Tunnel of Doom. My screams echoed as I hurtled through this pitch black hell, until it spat me out at speed, limbs flapping wildly, into the last pool.

My final indignity from that ill-advised launch was that I was wearing my very fetching Disney Mickey Mouse costume with modesty skirt. Mickey has never looked so broken.

Although our imminent launch of EnRich Coaching for Educators has caused these memories to surface, I’m confident that this time, at least, I will be properly equipped, appropriately attired, and supported by a wonderful team that I can rely on to keep me vertical and pointed in the right direction. There will not be a jet-ski, flume or hippie in sight as, after months of work and preparation, we celebrate the official start of our organisation. Watch this space for more information about the event!

EnRich has already brought together a small team of coaches, who will be working their magic with educators locally and nationally. Two excellent coaches – Ruth Lewis and Yo Clay – have already joined me, and two more are set to sign on soon. Together we are a formidable team, committed to transforming the lives of educators.

At our launch, we will raise a glass not only to EnRich but to educators everywhere. You are at the heart of what we do. You are our heroes.

 Salut.