| When I was a kid my son's age, I would come to Foothill College every now and then with my late father, Dick Maxwell, who was one of the first teachers to be hired there after the campus was built in the early 60s. He brought me to the college to swim in the small faculty pool that has since been filled in. I guess I was learning more than how to do the backstroke, because, twenty-five years later, I was teaching English in the same rooms where he taught. Now, twelve years later, I'm still in the neighborhood, here at the College of San Mateo.
I have done other things along the way, of course. I attended Palo Alto High School, attended Foothill for two quarters as a student, wandered through some of most distant and enlightening and difficult places in the world, learned French and stonemasonry, majored in English, camped with Tibetan nomads, received my B.A from U.C. Berkeley, travelled some more, taught English for a year in Tokyo, sold spiritual and religious books for Harper-Collins, saw the aftermath of the Romanian revolution, learned to speak Spanish, taught K-12 as a sub in Cupertino and then in San Francisco, began writing poetry, earned an MA in English from UC Berkeley, wrote poetry for two more years while getting an MFA in creative writing from the University of Oregon, moved back to San Francisco, started at Foothill, and continued on to teach at De Anza, Diablo Valley College, USF, City College of San Francisco, College of Marin, Stanford University, Canada College, and, finally, the College of San Mateo, where I intend to be for a very long time. |
