The Daily EO: March 19, 2012

This morning I woke up about 8:30.  I was freezing and I had a headache.  There is nothing worse than waking up cold.  Well, actually, there is nothing worse waking up cold while camping.  But anyways. . . I woke up cold and my head was weary.  I groggily made my way into the bathroom where I proceeded to have the hottest bath I could.  This warmed me up pretty quickly, but I continued to have this weird light-headed feeling.  I couldn’t focus properly and had to make an effort to read.  Out I got as I felt much warmer – as evidenced by pink skin on half my body.

I turned up the heat, wandered into the kitchen to make some tea, and did chores while I waited for the water to boil.   The room seemed hazy, a little blurry.  Must be this headache.  My left eye is bugging me.  Rub.  Adjust my contact.  That’s weird, that kinda bothers my eye.

hmmmm.

Wait.

Close Right Eye.   Blurry

Cover Left Eye.  Clear  (I am not ambidextrous in winking)

Close Right Eye.  Blurry

Cover Left Eye.  Clear.

March 19th, 2012 Extra-Ordinary:  Taking a good hour before I realize one of my contacts has fallen out overnight.   I can’t see because I can’t see.

The Daily EO: March 18, 2012

It is about a 3.5 hour drive from Huntsville to St. Catharines.   We do the drive often:  Highway 11, Highway 400, 401, 427, QEW, 406.  For excitement, sometimes we use the 407.  Always a good idea at the time, never quite sure when the hangover in the form of the 407 bill comes in.   As we are normally driving there for a weekend with my in-laws, we tend to going South on Friday nights and North on Sunday nights.

This past weekend was such a trip.  We left later than we normally do on a Sunday because we had the rare occasion of a quiet afternoon and supper with just my Mother-in-Law.  So, we didn’t leave until after 7 o’clock.  A long trip for someone who has to work the next morning – ahem, unfortunately, that is not me.

The trip seemed to go by in a flash this time.  We talked about my family, his family, Huntsville, Toronto, his work, my potential job offer, our friends, where our next vacation might be, Christmas gifts (yes, sorry, I have a problem – blame my mother), future plans, and short-term plans.  He laughed at me, I laughed at him.  We laughed together.

And somehow when I looked up, the sign said “Huntsville 53 kms”

March 19, 2012 Extra-Ordinary:  The mundane turned into reconnection.

 

The Daily EO: March 17, 2012

11:11 am   08/08/08

When I was a kid, I would plan part of my day to see 11:11 am on one of the digital clocks in the house or car (apparently 11:11 pm was a bit beyond bedtime).  Too often, I would get distracted at 11:10, and then remember and disappointedly see 11:13.  When I did manage to see 11:11, I would excitedly point it out to mom.  She showed interest, but I know now it probably was parental interest, not true excitement about the the turning of the digital clock.  My favorite clock to watch on was my mom’s clock radio, it was “digital”, but instead of glowing numbers like we have now, it was like four mini Rolodexes.  I could actually watch them flip over when it was time.

The most amazing number ever was my birthday:  August 8.  08/08.   How cool is that?  In 1988, I must have bored the world to death telling them about my miraculous birthday coming up:  08/08/88.  Fortunately, by the time 08/08/08 arrived, I was mature and much more cool about it.  (But how amazing is having a birthday on 08/08/08 and meeting for drinks at 8 pm?  OMG!).

Anyways, I worked out what I thought was another miracle when I was a kid.    My birthday is August 8th.  My brother’s birthday is March 20th.  My dad’s birthday was August 20th.  He shared my birthday month and my brother’s birthday date!!  WOW!  It was like it was planned.  (please note, both my brother and I were not induced – it was not planned, and therefore even MORE miraculous).

So absolutely fascinated by unique number patterns.  How many times did I say to teachers, friends, strangers, dates:

“My birthday is 08/08.  Cool huh? My brother’s birthday is March 20th.  Yep, first day of spring!!  My dad’s birthday was August 20th – sharing my brothers and mine!  My Mom’s birthday is March 17th.  Yes, St. Patrick’s day!!  We totally thought Todd was going to be born on Mom’s birthday!  Aren’t those the coolest family birthdays?”

Yeah. . . . didn’t have a lot of second dates.

March 17th, 2012 Extra-Ordinary Event:  My Mom’s Birthday.  It’s like totally on St. Patrick’s Day!

The Daily EO: March 16, 2012

Abraham Maslow was a psychologist during the 1900’s.  He founded the branch of psychology known as Humanistic Psychology.  Humanistic Psychology is based on the tenet that all people are basically good.  It’s a pleasing thought and during my psychology degree at UVic the work of the humanists drew me in.  Maslow believed that all people possessed the pathway to strong mental health.  They just sometimes need to help to remove the obstacles in the way.

Maslow’s most famous work is his hierarchy of needs.  It has moved from a academic psychology concept into the popular knowledge of our culture.  Maslow believe that people strove towards a state of self-actualization, but having to ensure other more basic needs are met before achieving it.   The first ever picture in this blog to help with your understanding (stolen from Wikipedia.  Which I not really stealing because it is a community, a virtual commune right?):

I like the work of the humanists for just this type of thing.  When you read this, it inherently makes sense to you.  If your life is in immediate jeopardy, you are not worrying about the difficulties that you are having with marriage, or your concern about your workplace closing down.   If your son is serving in Afghanistan, you are likely less concerned about what awards you could win at work.  It just feels right – it makes sense.

I think that I am generally working in the esteem category.  Yes, recent events has caused me to focus less on esteem to work on security of property or employment.  And yes, sometimes I am working up in the self-actualization area – aiming to drive ahead into clear and content understanding of myself.  But generally, I am at the esteem level, working on confidence, respect for myself and others, etc.

I am envious of those people who have found their way to the top of this pyramid.  (and perhaps that I is why I am just at the esteem level.  Hmmm).  I am going to say something that sounds arrogant now: “I am generally good at most things”.  Except chess, golf and keeping my opinions to myself.  And I am sure you will add some others I lack in, perhaps humility.   But the point is, I am good at lots of these things not exceptional.  I have always wanted to be one of those people who are born to do one thing (and they know it), and are only true to real selves if they are doing it.  And I continue searching for that thing, or that place, to know that I am exactly who and where I want to be.  Perhaps all those tortured artists wish to be like me.

Emile and I seem to have a new tradition.  Each time we drive to St. Catharines for the weekend, we stop at Well Fed in Gravenhurst.  This is a Deli/Restaurant that my friend and former colleague Annette G. opened almost a year ago.

I worked with Annette for five years, 3 of which she reported to me.  During that time, I think Annette was operating at the esteem level – perhaps occasionally bumping up to self-actualization.  She achieved success, enjoyed her team’s respect, respected her co-workers, etc.  It was always a pleasure to work with her.  When Algonquin closed, she mourned with the rest of us.  But life sometimes works as it is supposed to.

Annette worked through the transition, then purchased a building, and created her deli.  I’ll admit I thought she was crazy.  (don’t tell her I said that).  Restaurants and delis are risky business – and to open one in a seasonal small town?  And to start with having a mortgage to pay?  Her husband also owning a small business? Brave.  And I thought crazy.

We stopped in to grab some food on our way.  I listened to Annette describe a new product she was thinking of carrying.  I stopped listening to what she was saying.  I starting watching her, and listening to the tone of her words.   Her apron had a hole in it, her hair yanked back into a ponytail, tired and it had been a long week.  But she was glowing, she was excited, her eyes were dancing about the possibilities, she was open to what may come her way.  Although I hadn’t thought of Humanistic Psychology for a long time, it hit me – she was self-actualized.

This is the place she should be.  She is Whole, Perfect, Self-sufficient and completely at Ease with herself and those around her.

March 16, 2012 Extra-Ordinary:  Recognizing and Witnessing Self-Actualization.  Soon I may see Pavlov’s dog.

The Daily EO: March 15, 2012

Today I had an interview for CSR/Materials Manager in the GTA.  I did well, I think.  It’s sometimes hard to say.

We talked and I answered questions with the plant manager, the controller and the HR representative.  The entrance, reception area and boardroom all had that frayed but tidy look – the one of little money being spent.  I like that look.  It worries me when I see a lot of money splashed up on the walls.  Is that painting the training budget?  Is that reception desk the bonus program?

I arrived at 15 minutes before my allotted time and this seemed to cause a bit of a panic.  The receptionist ran to find the plant manager.  When he could not be found,  the plant manager’s boss (“The Boss”) was located.  The Boss called the controller’s cell.  He called the plant manager’s cell.  He called the HR rep’s cell.  I told him it was alright, I was early and that I was just here for an interview – I could wait.  “The Boss” finally reached the plant manager, and let me know that he was on his way.

While I sat in the reception area, I was alone.  I studied the pictures, stole some earplugs for Emile (I need something concrete out of this experience), and waited.  The reception area was in the middle of the building and team members often walked by going about their business.  Every single one of thing acknowledged me with a nod or smile, but most asked if I had been looked after.  It was pleasing to see how the team members wanted to look after their customers.

At about 5 to, a red-headed man walked by studying his cell phone, paying me no heed.  After he was out of eyesight, but not earshot, I overheard him speaking with a team member about orders and how to schedule them.

Let’s recap here – the plant manager knew I was waiting in the reception awaiting his arrival.

I waited another 7 or 8 minutes, and finally the red-headed man came to introduce himself as the plant manager and asked me to follow him.  And follow him I did – literally, he walked down the hallways ahead of me, again studying his cell phone.

I asked a lot of questions to ascertain if I was a fit, and vice versa.  After 1 hour and 20 minutes we had all got our answers for now.  Do I want to work there?  I am still processing and I suppose they need to offer me a job before I really have to think too hard.

March 15, 2012 Extra-Ordinary Event: Remembering the little things count.  I remember the interview and impressions and will focus on that too, but the couch snub and the “follow me” thing? – it’s staying with me tonight.

The Daily EO: March 14, 2012

I was crabby. I don’t really know why. Each person I interacted with seemed to be less than competent or annoying or worse both. I say seem because I think it was my perception probably not reality.

The post office, the grocery store, the bank, the LCBO. They all annoyed me. And Emile annoyed me and he wasn’t even home.  Beavis too.  And that wasn’t even his fault.  I was the one who trained him to beg for treats on the kitchen stools.

Driving home after finally getting my chores done – thinking to myself honestly, how do these people function? – I took a back street to avoid the people.  Veteran’s Way for you Huntsvilleites. On the left side of the street was a mother and her toddler.  On the right side of the street was the mother’s other daughter – I’d guess about 4 years old.  I saw them so slowed down to make sure I didn’t hit them.  Wouldn’t that be a terrific end to my day. (See how crabby I was? I was more worried about my inconvenience of hitting them, versus terrible injury.  Sigh)

I saw them, but the mom didn’t see me. She was shouting at her other daughter to move it already – get across the street.  She  was gesturing and looking annoyed that her daughter was not listening.  It wasn’t until the older daughter started waving at me that I was noticed driving down the street.  Mom looked horrified.  I cheered up.

March 14, 2012 Extra-Ordinary:  A four-year old figuring the perfect time not to listen to her mother.

 

The Daily EO: March 13, 2012

I left my mom’s house in Cranbrook at 9 am MST and arrived at my house in Huntsville at 11 pm EST.  These are the perils of living in small towns, people.  It is only 2700 kms from Cranbrook to Huntsville and by plane that should only take 4.5 hours give or take.  But it requires me to take a small jet over the mountains to Calgary, then a layover there, 3.5 hour flight to Toronto, .5 hour wait for luggage (is it just me or is Toronto the slowest airport in the world to get your checked bags?  It seems like it is), then a 2.5 hour drive to Huntsville.  I guess there just isn’t the airport facilities in Huntsville to allow for a 757 to come blazing in to drop me at my house.  So, to visit Cranbrook, it is 12 hours door to door.  (shorter to fly to Portugal!)

My flight from Calgary ended up being 1.5 hours delayed, extending my expected layover in the Calgary airport from 2 hours to 3.5.  The airport is under renovations now, and with it being Spring Break and many flights delayed, the airport was pretty busy.  In fact, there were line-ups at BOTH the womens’ and mens’ bathrooms.  When does that happen?!

I wandered back and forth at first.  Looking for another bathroom (it’s not right to have to stand in line at an airport).  Interacting with the woman promoting Aeroplan credit cards (my usual “I already have one” didn’t work this time, she then tried to upgrade me – what a terrible job for those team members).  Checking out what there was to buy (Alberta has privatized the liquor stores, so it is interesting to see the unique products in store ).  Seeing the food choices (always get sucked in with Starbucks – never know what is it, but it seems like a special occasion when I have Starbucks).  Located my gate (phew).

I needed to eat and my diet of late wasn’t the best.  I decided on Jugo Juice where I purchased a Mango protein Smoothie and a vegetarian snack wrap.  Surely these selections counteract the Mozza Burger Combo and Key Lime Pie from the night before.  As I came around the counter, I saw it.  An oversized comfortable leather arm-chair bathed in a stream of sunlight.  Is this for regular people to sit in?  I sat down and ate my wrap, certain the Elite and Super Elite would come and ask me for ID.  When I determined it was safe, I threw my legs up over the arm and snuggled in the sunlight like a cat, sipping my smoothie and doing a crossword puzzle on my phone.  I could pass 3 hours here, in fact, I could become one of those airport lifers who get trapped in the country with no passport here.

This chair would be the EO for today if not for someone I encountered while in that marvelous chair.   As I sipped my smoothie – feeling the protein eat away at that ice cream binge – I noticed the cleaner starting on the large bank of windows in front of me.  He started on the left of the nine windows that I would estimate at 12 feet tall.  Carefully spraying the surface with a special elongated cleaner, then meticulously using his squeegee to pull the water down – slightly overlapped to avoid any streaks.  With the window sills now full of cleaning solution, he then precisely used his squeegee and rags to perfectly dry the sill.  Each window took him about 10 minutes to complete.  As the sun streamed in on me, I watched him complete one window after the next, each one getting the same careful treatment.

I admired his work ethic, the preciseness of his movements and the care he took to ensure the windows were clean.

March 13, 2012 Extra-Ordinary Event:  Staying motivated and true to your work ethic even when the other person hasn’t done his half of the job.  Those windows were filthy – on the outside.

 

March 12, 2012

I am often of two minds.  I’m 37, you’d think I sure be certain, secure, and consistent  in my thinking.  But I seem to waver frequently.  If you ask many of my friends and colleagues, they would say I am opinionated, strong-willed, and passionate in my beliefs.  Somehow, I have fooled you all!  But I don’t waver on the mundane,  it’s the major ones that cause me to question myself.

There is part of me that wishes to be urbane – stylishly chic, knowing the best hole-in-the-walls for a cheap meal, savvy transit rider, multiple options and hip.  Another part of me wants to stay with my small town roots – cheap parking, casual and comfortable clothing, reasonable housing cost, lack of congestion and a strong sense of community.   I want to be successful and make a huge salary for the work that I do; I want to work for a small company that has strong values.  I want to live in Ontario; I want to live in BC.  I want a sprawling waterfront home in Muskoka; I want a hip condo in Toronto in an up-coming and stylish neighbourhood.  I want to be ripped and toned in every area of my body; I want to eat what I want when I want.  I love a hamburger; I want to be a vegetarian.  I want to be able to afford facials, Kate Spade wallets, pedicures, massages and fancy clothes; I want a job with reasonable hours, a short commute and that I love.   I enjoy being a server; being a server is beneath my skills and education.  Where I live is most important; having a satisfying career is most important.

This duality causes paralytic stagnation in my life.  How do I move forward at the fork in the road – and worse yet, how do I move forward when I have more than a fork, endless roads that sound interesting?  Finding a path that satisfies both of my wants has been near impossible as of late.   This is the concept of Opportunity Cost I learned in Grade 9 Consumer Education Class.  (We watched a Film Strip)   I can’t have it all – I have to decide despite fear of regretting my choices.

My mind bounces back and forth, wanting both lives, wanting neither on rough days. 

Tomorrow I head home after my 3 week sojourn in British Columbia visiting friends and family.   I have had a wonderful time getting to see everyone and being able to fold into regular life a bit, not just visiting.  But it also has been a bit of an escape – allowing me to forget the back and forth of my choices  for a while.  Putting off yet again on what I need to decide.  But no excuses now.  An interview in Toronto, a looming end of contract for Emile, and for once an overwhelming feeling that I must decide soon.

I spent tonight celebrating my Mom and Brother’s birthdays which are both later this month.  It was just the three of us and we enjoyed our last meal together for now, opening gifts and laughing with (and at) each other.   I know I want this, laughter and connection, no matter what life I choose.

March 12, 2012 Extra-Ordinary:  A little clarity on the Eve of my return home.

March 11, 2012

My parents moved into their house in 1971.  It was the sort of deal where they could choose from a number of floor plans and then it would be built.  I guess that is similar to how developers work now, but somehow back then developers could afford to build homes on large lots and make the homes look different from the others on the street.  My parents moved to Cranbrook for my Dad’s job, and Mom also found work teaching here.  I wasn’t born for 3 years, so they had their new 4 bedroom house and the time to do what they wanted.

I can imagine the two of them – a young hyper-organized couple with no children moving from their rental apartment in Trail, BC into their brand new home – their own – with all sorts of plans and ideas for each room.   Mom still lives in the same home today that is a mix of the original decoration and improvements made over the 40 years.  The wood siding and stone fireplace in the family room installed by my dad,  the orange shag carpet picked out by my mom.  The custom teak furniture designed by both of my parents to make sure it could store the 8 tracks, records, dishes, and glassware effectively.  But cosmetics of most of the house is updated, the bathroom redone, the extra bedrooms turned into more usable rooms.  Better storage solutions, etc.

Our kitchen originally had dark brown wood cupboards, loud brightly coloured vegetable wallpaper and a bright green linoleum floor.  My mom designed two storage racks and my dad built them out of orange stained wood.  One rack was small and held the spices.  The other rack was large and held jars – 6 rows of 5.  These jars were empty Kraft Miracle Whip glass jars with the labels removed and the lids carefully painted white with a round of the room’s wallpaper glued on the top.   The jars were used to store dry goods – pasta, rice, coffee, raisins, etc.   This is how much my Dad loved Miracle Whip; my parents had 30 empty jars to make into storage.   Wow. 

The rack with the jars are still up today, but the orange wood is painted white to match the walls that no longer have wallpaper on them.  There are plans in the works to build a bigger rack that will hold 6  jars per row.  One spot will always hold a pile of mom’s ashtrays.  The jars no longer have their original metal lids, but been replaced with white plastic ones today.

One of those jars usually stores homemade croutons.  Mom keeps her pantry full, ready for whatever dinner decision may come.  If I am home, she cannot count on those croutons being there when she wants them.  Made from stale old bread that my mom and brother save,  they’re fried in margarine and random spices and then oven roasted for 30 minutes.    Each day will find me grabbing that jar and snacking on a handful.  The salt content is high – hitting the back of your mouth with a punch – and they are some how crunchy and dissolve at the same time.   They are nothing like the hard store-bought ones that always seem to remind you of how croutons should taste.  

There isn’t a recipe.  I’m made them several  just like mom showed me how, but they don’t taste right.  Not enough salt?  Used Butter instead of Margarine?  I don’t know, but they don’t taste right unless I have them from my mother’s Kraft Miracle Whip jar.

Tonight’s dinner plan is Barbeque Chicken Caesar Salad and I admitted to mom that new croutons would be required as they had been otherwise consumed.   I was hoping she’d make a big batch so there would be extra for snacking.  I love them and thought tomorrow – my last full day here – would allow time for crouton munching.

March 11th, 2012 Extra-Ordinary Event:  Upon my confession, my mother saying “You know, croutons are okay, but I really prefer the store bought ones if I have any at all.”   What?!?

 

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.