In life, certain individuals leave indelible marks on our souls, shaping our paths in ways we only fully appreciate in hindsight. Alice Hook was one such person in my life.

My journey with Alice began at the age of 11, stepping into sixth grade with a head full of dreams and eagerness to learn. A cadre of educators had meticulously laid the foundation for this pivotal moment: from the nurturing guidance of Mildred Ringer in kindergarten, through Mrs. Miller’s encouragement of my artistic inclinations, to Mabel Core’s stern discipline, each had contributed a thread to the fabric of my growth.

Then came Alice.

My initial perception of Alice was her radiant beauty, underscored by dark, meticulously kept curls, and a demeanour that blended grace with swiftness. Yet, it was her warmth, her crinkling eyes, and her reassuring, no-nonsense manner that truly set her apart.

Alice exuded a quiet confidence that seemed to envelop you, fostering an environment where trial and error were not just accepted but encouraged. In her classroom, failure was a myth; what existed instead were stepping stones to success, each “misstep” a lesson veiled in opportunity. This perspective has become a cornerstone of my life’s philosophy, shaping my approach to daily challenges and influencing my worldview on the essential purpose of our existence: to learn, to grow, to evolve.

Reflecting on the educational ethos of the early 1960s, it strikes me how Alice’s teaching philosophy was both a product of its time and remarkably ahead of it. In an era before academic achievement became the point, measured by test scores and homework volumes, Alice championed a more holistic approach. It was an approach that mirrored the educational philosophies now celebrated in some of the world’s most progressive schooling systems, from Finland to New Zealand and Japan. These systems eschew the rigidities of standardized testing in favor of nurturing well-rounded individuals through holistic development, collaborative learning, and an emphasis on mental well-being and inclusivity—principles that Alice embodied decades ago.

This brings me to the intersection of Alice’s influence and my passion for art, specifically my painting of the astronauts. The essence of learning and experimentation, central to both education and art, reflects Alice’s indelible impact on me. In art, as in learning, failure is not a setback but a vital part of the journey toward mastery. This philosophy, instilled in me by Alice, has been instrumental in

my development as an artist. It taught me to embrace each attempt, each brushstroke, with the understanding that progress is often non-linear and that the value of the endeavour lies as much in the process as in the outcome.

Would I have arrived at this understanding without Alice? Perhaps. But the truth remains that it was Alice Hook who guided me to this realization, at a time and place that seemed inconsequential—the mid-20th century in a rural, overlooked part of America. Yet, the impact of that time, that place, and Alice’s presence in my life is anything but insignificant.

I am convinced that each astronaut I paint must have had their “Alice”—a mentor who played a pivotal role in their life and career. This belief will be further explored in my next blog post, which will feature a testament from John Glenn about his own “Alice Hook.”

Alice Hook’s legacy is a testament to the profound impact a teacher can have on an individual’s life. It’s a reminder that the true measure of a teacher’s influence often lies beyond the confines of the classroom, in the hearts and minds they inspire to dream, to dare, and to discover. How fortunate I was to have Alice Hook as my teacher, my mentor, my guide.

One significant example that exemplifies Alex’s for me was her identifying my art interest, then allowing me to fill her “blank canvas”, a long green chalkboard, which she offered me the opportunity to draw the Peanuts characters filling up its length. And leaving it there for a number of days amazing other teachers and students. Charlie Brown; Lucy; Linus, The Great Pumpkin; the skinny Christmas tree, and Snoopy, Charley Browns intrepid dog who often engaged in flights of fancy on his mission to shoot down The Red Baron.

I saw Alice again after 57 years gone by recently. She’s spry, curious, still possessing her beautiful smile and crinkly eyes, and a manner that belies her 92 years giving the illusion she is 30 years younger.

I gave her one of my prints of the “Ohioans in Space” merely signing my name. However, On the back I drew a picture of Snoopy, sitting as he always did, on top of his doghouse. He’s saying “ I love you, Alice”. Charles Schulz the creator of Peanuts was surely smiling in heaven.

Alice on the other hand is still here, still living in the town where I grew up, still inspiring others. Me included.