March 2012 – Page 3 – The Daily EO

March 10, 2012

My mother is a teacher. My uncle is a teacher. I am not sure how both of them decided to be teachers. My uncle teaches high school science, my usually teachers grade 5, 6 or both. None of their children are teachers, or plan to be teachers. My cousin coaches soccer, and I manage teams, but all of us have stayed well away from teaching. With good measure I often think.

When I was a kid and starting to grasp the concept of university, I realized that my mom had to go to university to get her teaching job. I was in intermediate school at that point, and thought that university would be so hard, so difficult for everyone except teacher. After all, to teach a kid in grade 2, you would only need to pass tests that checked to see if you knew Grade 2 materials right? So, what adult didn’t know basic math, or easy science. (after all, I was a smart kid in grade 5, even I knew it).

I asked my mom about this, telling her that her exams must have been so easy. She reacted like any parent would do when their kids say to them, “What you have accomplished is easy”. She answered precisely with “No, Susan, our exams were NOT easy. They had question on them like: Please put together a development plan for a learning disabled child for 3 school years to improve poor math skills to satisfactory level in their current grade.”

Well, as much as I didn’t want to admit it at the time, that sounded hard. Apparently, you needed more than knowing the material to be a teacher. I think I slunk off to my room and didn’t bring up the subject again. At that time, Mom was not teaching as she was a stay-at-home parent, so I didn’t know too much it. My frame of reference was only 9-3 that I saw my teachers in classrooms and I was a good student.

Later, after I graduated from High School, Mom decided to return to the classroom. It was a difficult road for her, as she had lost much of her seniority, had not completed a 4 year degree (at the time, it wasn’t mandatory), and had been out of the schools for 15+ years. My experience with Mom teaching has always been a vague understanding of her earlier career (as a kid) and long distance discussions (now as an adult).

I have since visited her classrooms, read articles about the schools and classes, listened to her stories – successes and frustrations, enjoyed her Christmas and Year End goodies and but still generally been an outsider to my mom’s teaching career. My brother on the other hand, lives here with her. He can attest to the late nights, the amount of personal money spent on supplies for the classroom, hours spent fund-raising for classroom items like textbooks, the concerts, the field trips, the time spent worrying about a child in a dangerous home life, the Professional Development days, weekends spent on report cards, the lack of pay in the summer, the days when she doesn’t think she can stand for another minute and generally watch how much effort it takes to be a great teacher. Last night, I went to Fabricland with her and she spent $40 of her own money on trim for a craft later this year. And after that, she worked with my brother on how she needed him cut up some of the other pieces for the same craft. It’s a good thing he has a jigsaw. (she’s on spring break right now too)

For those of you who know me, you know that I do not believe in unions. I think that it only makes financial and business sense to treat your team members as they deserve – fair wages and benefits, health and safety, and with respect and honestly. Therefore, the team members did not need another organization – militant, often in my opinion – asking for dues and complicating the workplace. I have avoided working in unionized environments, and avoided discussing the topic with my mom. There is no need to debate something that will not result in any meaningful results for either of us. Fortunately, my mom is not staunch union member, she is about middle of the road I would guess and a reasonable person. So instead, we talk about her kids and what is happening.

Many of you are residents of Ontario and are probably not familiar with the difficulties the government and British Columbia Teacher’s Federation (BCTF) are having with each other. The BCTF has been without a contract since September 2011, and therefore have been working to rule. From my outside position, I am not totally sure what this means, but I do know it meant no report cards and no outside of school activities. (therefore, fundraisers to get the required items for classrooms and other activities cannot be done).

Think about this for a minute. In my world, a “white-collar” worker in a non-unionized environment. If my contract ended, I would stop coming to work. Wouldn’t you? If you were on contract, and the company did not renew your contract, you’d stay home and knit scarves for the cat. Right? But the BCTF kept working, I guess using their old contract, other than to curtail some work as per my notes above.

A couple weeks ago, the government introduced Bill 22, that basically (from my limited understanding) would eliminate seniority, give additional management rights to the principals, and remove the current class size caps. Therefore, removing the need to negotiate a new contract – just legislate the teachers back to work. Some of these things sound reasonable to me. Shouldn’t principals have management rights? Aren’t they the leader of the schools? Shouldn’t people be judged on merit, not how old they are? Sure, I agree, but how do you move these changes into such a huge and currently disfunctioning school system? But it isn’t the matter of what is being legislated, but whether it should be legislated at all.

Ok, again, in my “white collar” world. So, you negotiate an employment contract with your company. You show up to work only to find out that your boss has decided that it would be better for him and the economy to reduce your pay and make your job harder. Most of us would probably quit or shout “You misled me, that is not fair!”. But in this case, there is no where else to work, no where else to go if you want to stay in your chosen career. And your team members are counting on you – they need your coaching and guidance.

That’s exactly what the BCTF said! “We’re going on strike!”. The labour board said they were not allowed to go on strike, but they could take 3 days and handout leaflets with no pay of course. No signs around the neck, no picketing, no stepping on school grounds and no blocking other unions from entering the school. Did it make any difference? I am not sure, alot of inconvenienced parents for sure, and the government got $33M in wage savings.

No, I don’t believe in unions, I believe in fairness and equity, and negotiating in good faith. I believe that life has become more complex, and our children are more unique than ever. I think people should be promoted and hired based upon merit not how long they have been doing it. I think that teachers are insane to take such a difficult job.

I believe something is not quite right here in BC with the BCTF and the Provincial Government and Bill 22, but I cannot offer any solutions or tell you that anyone is the villain. I can only admire how good a teacher my mom and my uncle are. It’s not a career I would ever choose – the university exams are just too hard.

I will not turn The Daily EO into a soapbox or a link place, but today someone sent my mom this link and it hit me how much of my life was shaped by those who have stopped to take the time to teach me throughout my life.

Here is the link for you if you wish to look at what struck me today: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6NV2EMjOv5A&feature=share

March 10, 2012 Extra-Ordinary Event: Remembering Mrs. Paschal, Mrs McDonald, Mr. Price and so many other teachers that have decided the frustrations of their career are less important than their passion for guiding children.

March 9, 2012

My sides are hurting. A large part from a large set of Russian Twists I did yesterday after 30 minutes on my brother’s elliptical. (woo-wee, look at me go) But now also because I was laughing so hard with my brother that I couldn’t get air in, tears were running down my face and I was afraid something was going to rupture.

There is nobody in this world who can make me laugh harder than my brother. And over nothing really. I can say or do something, and all he has to do is cock his head and raise an eyebrow and I am off. When it is Mom, Todd and I, Mom plays the straight one for us – as every comedy routine needs. But he has a talent for finding the kernel of funny in any situation. Usually in one sentence he can have the room brighter.

There is something so therapeutic about laughter. It warms up your mood, lifts your hopes and connects you to who you are with. I laugh often with friends, but there is something about my family that makes the laughter larger and more free. Perhaps it is because it’s unique to our family, our in-jokes, our strange family members and they know me. I can let loose, and let it flow out because they already have seen it all.

I don’t know, but I know it makes me feel good, makes me feel connected. It doesn’t seem to matter what it is – it is unfunny to many, but when Todd and I start, it has to run the full gamut – tears and all.

What were we laughing about on this occasion?

My brother was having a bowl of raisin bran as an evening snack.

My mom came in, noted what he was eating and said, “I don’t like raisin bran, the raisins are too hard”.

Todd said “Well, get some bran flakes and add some soft raisins.”

Mom says “I don’t like bran.”

It took about 10 minutes for us to calm down after that, with Mom coming in every couple of minutes to say “What is so funny? What is wrong with you two?”

March 8th, 2012 Extra-Ordinary Event: Bran. Who knew it was so funny?

March 8, 2012

I started a blog today. It feels exciting, but it feels artificial a little. Like I am trying to join the masses – 500,000 blogs on WordPress now. I never like to be one of the masses, and it always pains me if I actually WANT to do what the masses are doing. Sometimes, I have ignored my own desires to go down a different path so I am not like everyone else. That is how I ended up playing the Trombone for 6 years. (That and Steve on whom I had a crush on. He was playing the trombone too, but then dropped out after 6th grade. That was not an excellent return on my investment).

But in this case, I have joined the masses of blog writers. It called, ta-da . . . The Daily EO.

www.thedailyeo.wordpress.com

It is the same as my writings that I have sent you via e-mail which I will continue to do for now. Feel free to follow me and provide the link to others you think will truly enjoy it. And if the mood strikes you can leave a comment (or not) – remember, they are not private, anyone will be able to see them.

March 8th, 2012 Extra-Ordinary Event: Being part of big brother’s army. And what ever happened to the Steve guy anyways?

March 7, 2012

I was handed the phone by my brother and the person on the other end said to me “I was just thinking about babysitting three little kids, if I had to run a daycare, I think I’d shoot myself”. Giggle, Giggle.

There was no salutation, no hello, just the start of a conversation. None was needed, It was Kathy, my mom’s best friend since I can remember. She has been my mom’s friend since they taught together at Central School here in Cranbrook in the early 70s before I was born. They are as different as two people can be, yet they share an unbreakable bond. My mom – organized, assertive, and pragmatic; Kathy – extensive attention to detail when required, cluttered organization, and just a little bit country. Together they have shared raising two children each, tragedies, heartaches, joys, and above always – truth. They love each other for embodying the opposite of the other. Though they deal with their lives differently, they both have a core of steel and share the same values. Kathy drops by for a coffee whenever, and still says “Only if you’ve got some on”.

Kathy although a blessing to my mom, has not always been to me. She tends to say things blithely and innocently that leads to terrible consequences for me.

“Hi Sooz!” (at my pre-graduation party) = A definite change in my planned activities before the graduation party

“I saw you roaring up the 2nd Street hill in the Barracuda” = Yet another discussion with my mom about driving responsibly

“Open your mouth! Is that your adult tooth growing in front of your baby tooth?” = 3 retainers, four teeth pulled, 3 years of braces, and fear of dentists

But I shouldn’t complain. I suspect there has been a lot of intercedences on my behalf with my mom. There were some unexpected about-faces after a coffee in the living room.

Kathy has the gift to laugh at herself and appreciate who she is. And I don’t think that has come with just age, I remember her laugh rolling off her throughout my life. We can only hope to have such a friendship in a lifetime like the one my mom and Kathy share.

March 8th Extra-Ordinary: Not worrying when you can’t totally follow the conversation. We’ll get there.

PS Those 3 little kids were her two grandsons and another little girl. Three great kids, but a little off the normal daily dynamic with the addition of a little girl with two brothers.

March 6, 2012

Clarification from March 5th, 2012:

My mom would like it known that she does not play Auld Lang Syne at Christmastime, she changes it for New Year’s. I was using “Christmastime” loosely, meaning more the Holiday Season, but I apologize for making it sound like my mom does not know that you would play “Oh Little Town of Bethlehem” at Christmas and “Auld Lang Syne” at New Years. No, the microwave does not play “Oh, Little Town of Bethlehem”. That was just an example.

March 6th, 2012

What is a great heist movie with out the safe deposit box vault featured? The guys get in there and with a drill open up the boxes they have inside information on. Most times, it is something the person is not supposed to have, so they cannot report the theft to the police. The movies always have the loot carried out in a anonymous black duffle bag, and although we are supposed to embrace our anarchy-safe lives, part of us wants that black duffel bag to be the last piece of the perfect heist.

The safe deposit box vault reality in a small older bank is much different. Gone are the sleek wide boxes and the fancy security systems. Instead, the double key system, chipped paint and tiny boxes. The security is system a big door – then again the laser beams were likely off while we were in there today. Hmmm. Nonetheless, it was not Jason Bourne-esque, just rather ordinary. We didn’t bring a black duffel bag like I wanted to, but instead my mom pulled a grocery bag from her purse and everything was placed in there. It’s hard to feel like you have absconded with something if you are worrying about the straps of your grocery bag breaking. And with that, Mom cancelled the rental on her safe deposit box she has had for 30+ years.

I know you are excited to find out what is in the box and what awesome event took place that caused us to decide to save $50/year and obtain our valuables. What had required mom to store in the bank for 30 years? Was it proof of a half sibling? Perhaps a Nazi stolen Picasso? The Will that indicates my brother was disinherited and I will get the entire estate? A DNA sample from Rock Hudson?

Well, I will tell you, nothing that exciting. Some legal documents of little importance any longer, 4 shares in the some defunct BC Government company, and my Dad’s coin collection. I had forgotten about the coin collection languishing in their vault. I looked at it as a teenager, scoured the Coin Catalogues, sure he left me a masterpiece. (not my brother – me!) But although the coins were worth more than their face value, there wasn’t the 1953 Canadian Nickel No Shoulder Strap Mule in Brilliant Uncirculated condition. Sigh. Back then, the sentimental value of the collection by far outweighed the monetary one and Mom decided to store it in the bank just in case. As we all know from Hollywood, thieves do not examine potential items until AFTER the heist.

Yesterday, the excitement mounted again as we discussed the collection. I was sure that my Dad has left something in his collection that I was unable to identify as a teen. Plus, we were spending $50/year to have the safety deposit box. First the bank, then the library, and then home to comb through coins again. I spent most of the afternoon poring through the books, then searching on the Internet, comparing the condition and variations to values and scarcity. Mom reminded me that they were raising two children on one income – Dad couldn’t had afforded the rare variations a the time. The practical explanation did not damper my enthusiasm for the task – it could be there!

I learned the lingo, checked all the dealer websites, examined coins with a magnifying glass. But last evening I had to accept I didn’t make a mistake as a teenager – the highest sought coins just simply are not in his collection. But the excitement was there for an afternoon, and I began to understand why he collected his coins in the first place.

March 6th Extra-Ordinary: Treasure Hunting with my Dad

March 5, 2012

My mom’s microwave plays 20 seconds of “Oh, Susanna!” when it dings. Yes, you can change it to a normal beep, but the only time she changes it is at Christmas time when it then plays “Auld Lang Syne”. She likes it that way. It was not known when the microwave was purchased that it would play melodies, it was only a happy circumstance.

Perhaps this is the way that old folk songs will now be passed down to one generation to the next – through microwaves and cell phone ring tones. Nonetheless, every time you heat old tea up, you listen to that little old tune.

March 5th Extra-Ordinary: Strains of Stephen Foster telling me my leftovers are ready.

March 4, 2012

There is a festival that takes place in the Nevada desert called “Burning Man”. For almost everyone on this email list, this may not have even entered your consciousness. Those who actually have heard of it, probably don’t know what it is. But I think there is only one who truly knows on this distribution list. Lisa – who has been my best friend since University of Victoria when I answered her ad for a roommate – has attended this festival for 3 years and participates fully in Burning community events throughout the year. She shared her experiences with us over the weekend and we marvelled at the dedication of the participants and organizers.

What is Burning Man? It’s a surreal, participant driven, temporary art and exploration festival that occurs in the middle of the desert. I say temporary because one of its tenets is “Leave no Trace”. So, at the beginning – expanse of sand; At the end – expanse of sand. During – 50,000 people camping, creating temporary art, music, and exploring new things. I am not going to sit here typing and pretending I am an expert on this gathering – I certainly am not. The name of the Festival comes from the burning of an effigy of a man at the end of the event. What the burning represents to the members of the Burning Man Community, I cannot definitively say. To me, burning of such an item where everyone gathers to watch would be symbolic of cleansing, starting anew, and enjoying the warmth of the memories shared. The firelight on faces, the cold at your back, and the reminder that all things are temporary.

My brother and I spent long summer days in the in-ground pool in our backyard. Usually only coming out when mom insisted we eat something. Eating in the summer at our house often meant a wiener roast. I challenge you to find a more pleasurable day as a kid in 30 degree sunny weather in the pool with friends, interrupted only by hot dogs – cooked by our own hands over a fire – in white wonder buns with S’Mores for dessert. There is not a childhood friend of ours that didn’t sit on the bench by our fire pit (made with circular interlocking bricks) eating hot dogs or s’mores. Even as a teenager, my friends and I spent evenings with the fire reflected on our young faces. The fire pit is still there (some bricks replaced) and still hosts fires – although more for the burning of paper than cooking.

My mom tends to clean-out alot, getting rid of items that no longer bring her any pleasure. She is good about it – trashing things that should be trashed, donating only items that should be donated and giving other items to people who definitely want them. In recent weeks, she has dispositioned “Spirit of Christmas” craft books from the early 90s, a rickety old laundry drying rack that my brother replaced with a much more practical one, wooden salad bowls that have nearly 20 years of dressing soaked into them, and some fancy speciality coffee cups.

My mom also has a item that had been in her living room for about 20 years. It had rough surfaces that were difficult to clean, and it was a bit grubby from 20 years of dust, smoke and other contaminants. It – as she says – has had the bun. But how to dispose? This item was made by an artisan who is locally well know. Donating it would be difficult as someone would recognize the work – and in the current state, it misleadingly looks as if it wasn’t loved. Cleaning it would be nearly impossible and I suspect she didn’t really want to see it off to a new life. She decided that it was time to destroy assigned my brother to the task. “Leave No Trace”, she said.

We went out for sushi last night and when we returned about 8 pm quite satisfied, my brother decided it was the time to destroy the item. It was placed on the top of some kindling in the pit and we all stood back while my brother held the lighter to it. Nothing. Hmmm. Time for WD-40 of course! As my brother thoroughly soaked the pit in lubricant, my mom stood back and said “Pyro! Pyro!” to me in little concern and perhaps a little pride. This time the fire ignited. Soon, it was ripping away, but the WD – 40 was not enough completely start the wood on fire. Emile took the long nozzle off the WD-40 and sprayed the wood. It flared up and caused me, Lisa and my mom to panic as woman usually do while the men around them behave in dangerously.

We had a plastic can of powder used to make coloured flames. It was old and solidified. Try as we might, it wouldn’t break up – so the whole can was thrown in. Then our man got a salad bowl on his head and lap, and then a broken up laundry rack. The fire roared around these well used and loved items throwing up turquoise, blue and purple flames.

We stood back proud of what we had created and I could almost taste the s’mores. Friendship and love while we remembered times past and enjoyed the warmth on our faces and ignored the cold at our backs.

March 5th, 2012 Extra-Ordinary Event: My Mom’s man effigy creates Cranbrook’s First Burning Man Event. (that I know of)

March 3, 2012

I found a book on my mother’s bookcase called “Taking Things Seriously: 75 objects with unexpected significance”. It’s a book that features a picture of each object and then a little story written by the owner of said object. They write about where it comes from and why they have kept it. It’s one of those gift books that one would likely not buy themselves. I was looking for something to read that wasn’t murderous and this seemed interesting enough to fit the bill. I crawled into my electric blanket heated bed with the book and began to read about all sorts of people with bizarre and strange objects they have found, been given and cannot part with. Most of the items were not attractive or useful things – they are not kept for their inherent beauty or functionality.

Here at my mom’s house, things that are not used or not functional or ugly are not kept. Todd encourages Mom to toss anything that is no longer being used and Mom enjoys the feeling of purging items from the place. There are plenty of meaningful objects here in the house – but they are attractive (at least to my mom) or used.

Writing this, I feel like I should now tell you about some ugly item that either my mom or brother keep or that I keep that fits the book theme. But I cannot think of anything that would quite work. Nor when I cast my memory to our place. Perhaps I have missed the experience of finding a random object during a period of flux in my life that I assign meaning to and hold on to. This concerns me, perhaps I need more conversation pieces around my home?

I do have my own treasures that others may toss. A magnet that says “Happiness” received at my wedding shower. It sits in the unusual location on bedroom reading light so I have to touch it frequently and think Happiness. I think it is attractive, and could be used as a magnet again and thinking about happiness is good. I have a $5 chip from Casino Niagara that I really should cash in one day, but I like the reminder of gambling during my time at Mac when I really shouldn’t have been gambling. I wonder where that is right now? I hold on to it, in case we ever go to the Casino again. $5 is $5, afterall.

March 3 Extra-Ordinary: The useless and ugly do not exist in my life when I can avoid it.

March 2, 2012

About six years ago, Emile bought Mom and I matching webcams. They were matching in fact, but they didn’t have to be – they could have been any old webcam. But it allowed us to connect in a different way and see each other despite the differences in geography. Watching someone on webcam while to chat or Skype is funny, especially if they do not know how to type. And in general, as you sit and type, you tend to forget someone is looking at you and vice versa. So, your face goes back into the neutral position that isn’t as attractive as you think it is – especially reflected in the webcam software. The lighting is a little poor, the positioning is usually strange and it can make you look at little jowl-ly.

I will interject here, that it is interesting when you say things like this about yourself, often time the person with you will say “You don’t look that bad, in fact I think you look nice”. Is this courtesy? Or artifice? Or sincerity? Honestly, I think I prefer it to be courtesy. Really, if I think I look that bad, and my friends and family are sincere in telling me I don’t, my perception of myself is skewed. If they false about it, then I don’t have really good friends. Either one is undesirable. Changing my perception of myself is a painful, long drawn out process. Dumping friends is easy, but it can be lonely.

Anyways, we were discussing webcams last night because we were 5 people in a room, using 4 smart phones. Two of which are iPhone 4Gs that have video chat. I have to hold the phone about my head to look any good, and use gravity working for me. My friend Lisa was visiting, so that got us to talking a bit about our wedding, as Lisa was the maid of honour.

These two conversations intersected at the memory of the best webcam experience of my life.

My mom shopped in vain in larger centres trying to find her mother of the bride outfit. She and her best friends searched and searched, trying on many items and none were just right. Back at home in Cranbrook, Mom on a whim visited a store called “Pretty Woman”. Those of you who live in large cities need to understand. A store named “Pretty Woman” in Toronto or Vancouver would be located in a less then stellar neighbourhood and carry cheap garments. All the windows would have hand written signs that say strange things that are misspelled. In a small town, a boutique named “Pretty Woman” was just that – a boutique that is one of just several shops for ladies clothes in town – women who wanted to look pretty. Mom thought she would check it out and amazingly found two outfits for the wedding. Looking back – they were perfect for her, fit perfectly, looked great and really reflected her personality.

She came home so excited about finding the outfits for an event she was so looking forward to, she had to show them to me right away! Without a digital camera in the house, there was no fast way. But yet! The web cam! She fired up the computer and asked Todd (my brother) to assist. Emile and I gathered around the computer at our place, and Todd was assigned to lighting. Mom entered the room in the dark and stood in front of the computer. She indicated for Todd to turn on the lights. But Todd was a showman – he flickered the lights for her. Despite the bad resolution, it was hard to miss how great she felt in her outfit and the smile on her face. Between her posing, and Todd’s light show, there was not a dry eye in the house.

The memory of that day reminds me how excited Mom was for the wedding and how strongly she believes that Emile and his family were the right match for me. It’s not always the “big” memories that have the staying power.

March 2nd Extra-Ordinary Event: Reliving good memories with good friends and family. Knowing how much mom always wants the best for me.

March 1, 2012

We’ve come to an uneasy truce my body and me. I am not talking in general – although I have accepted Mom’s family’s fat fingers and thighs after many years. I have one lazy eye, my teeth are artificially straight, and my skin just longs for the drying interior of BC air. More importantly, I don’t get sick often, I suffer from no afflictions and in general, I am amazed with what my body can do. I try to treat it well with exercise, enough sleep, and good foods. But this truce I speak of is of today’s fragility compared to yesterday’s disaster.

When I woke up with the flu (or food poisoning?) yesterday – I’ll admit I felt betrayed by my own body. Seriously, this is not how my body is supposed to function and I am not enjoying it. I will not get into details, but will only tell you that it was the first time I actually used one of the those white bags on the plane. (Emile says it was only for spit, but I’ll tell you, I was very thankful for it). I spent the whole day in bed only arising when needed and had the longest 1 1/2 hour plane ride of my life.

Extra-Ordinary March 1st, 2012 Event: Feeling SO good today which is really quite below average on any other given day.