Several years ago, I was asked by the ski school director to act as an “ambassador” to the resort by giving a brief tour of our village to a group of first-time skiers. Since we were always looking for ways to entice new skiers, I happily agreed.

On a clear Tuesday morning, a large tour bus pulled up in front of the administration building. Before climbing on board, the resort concierge gave me brief instructions regarding how I was to conduct the tour, points of interest to highlight, etc.

I ascended the steps of the bus and turned to address the group. Inside, facing me were 50 enthusiastic new skiers, ready to begin their ski vacation. I asked the bus driver to cruise slowly around the village, as I described the most prominent landmarks and a bit of their history.

Since the points of interest were outside, I spent most of my time looking and speaking out of the windows as I pointed to them in the distance. This went on for almost an hour, before we returned to the administration building where the resort concierge was waiting for us. Before leaving, I stood in front of the group and asked, “Do you have questions about any of the things we saw this morning?”

The entire group just looked at me with blank expressions.

During 30 years of teaching, I've experienced some pretty lukewarm responses, but the lack of enthusiasm was ridiculous. There wasn't one question or comment. Not one raised hand. Just 50 blank stares.

I walked out of the bus disheartened and described the lack of response to the concierge.

“Oh,” she replied. “Did I forget to tell you? The whole group is deaf.”

Bill Davis, Vail

Glove the one you're with

One year, I was a new junior ski instructor at Magic Mountain, just a few miles down the road from the Okemo Mountain resort.

At the end of the day, my mother picked me up and asked how my lesson went. “It was OK,” I said. “But my hands are freezing.”

She asked why my hands were so cold. I told her that sometime after lunch, I was assigned to a small 5-year-old student for a beginning lesson. After only a few minutes showing the child the basics, he suddenly started to cry.

When I asked him what was wrong, he said that his mittens were sopping wet and he could no longer feel the ends of his fingers. By this time, we were already at the top of the mountain, with no dry gloves to exchange.

Being the professional ski instructor, I took off my brand new Schneider racing gloves and put them on the child. Feeling the warmth of the new, waterproof gloves, the child instantly stopped crying.

I told him, “Tell you what: you can wear my gloves until we get down to the bottom. When we get to the locker room, you can swap out my gloves for a dry pair and give me back mine.” But the child was having such a good time wearing “big guy” racing gloves, I decided to let him keep them until the end of the lesson.

At the end of the day, I returned the youngster back to his mother. Before parting, she gave me a $10 tip and asked, “By the way, does Matthew still wipe his nose with his gloves?”

Ben Kolakowski, Okemo, Vermont