Word: instructors
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: all
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
...happens, I'm getting into the swing after shaking off a caffeine-withdrawal headache. Only one person in the retreat's four-year history has ever quit. And the yoga is wonderful, a dynamic mix of ashtanga and hatha techniques, taught with exquisite clarity by the retreat's regular instructor, Wendy Wardell. The grub's not half bad, either. Meals might be a rabbit's fantasy of haute cuisine, but Henry Cumming, a top-flight chef from Britain, knows how to coax out the inner bunny. Plus it's not all salad. There's hummus and guacamole and soups - gazpacho...
...post in the front sight touch the center of the soldier's belt. The rifle is heavy, and the sight picture-the relationship of rings, aiming post and target-won't stay still. But I've only a couple of seconds left. I squeeze the trigger-"gently," says my instructor, Peter, "so it's a surprise when the gun goes off." Bang! The rifle kicks back into my shoulder, there's a sudden reek of gunpowder, and my focus flies forward as I try (in vain) to follow the bullet to the target. "I think you winged him," Peter says...
...align yourself not just with the gun and the target but with your surroundings: light must be taken into account (people tend to aim lower in dim light), temperature (on a hot day the bullet flies faster and higher), and wind. "Three minutes," says Ian, an Army weapons instructor turned lawyer. He means that to counter today's stiff easterly, he'll move his horizontal sight three-60ths of a degree to the left. Shooting is all about precision, he says. And consistency. And tenacity, says David, an engineer who won a U.S. sniper-rifle championship last year...
...classroom with four teenage boys, the focus is on life skills. Johnathan learns to type a grocery list, which he and an instructor will later take shopping. Another boy, learning to use a camera, asks visitors whether he may take their picture. He uses the same words and intonation each time he asks...
Before long, Pilar Cabrera, the affable proprietor of Casa de los Sabores B&B and an experienced cooking instructor, had put us all to work. My mother and sister cleaned peppers, I chopped cilantro, and two family friends who had accompanied us on the trip hovered over a pot of simmering milk. My father, as is his custom, absolved himself of cooking duties, although he stood by to sample anything ready for testing...