So much love…
I believe that some people have the impression that my children and I are reading encyclopedias.
and academic journals,
24/7 over at my house…
Not so…
In fact I refuse both types of publications…
And I refuse to write essays…
This resulted in me getting the lowest mark ever in the history of my graduate work,
for the elective course I took in Women’s Studies called Topics in Contemporary First Nations Women’s Art,
because instead of writing an essay talking about other women,
and their art,
in the third person,
I responded with my own cultural production,
in the form of an ear, nose, and throat bundle,
holding a paper canoe wrapped up in copper wire…
What would you say if she promised you heaven???
And then instead of writing a corresponding 1500 word artist statement,
because I do not yet call myself an artist,
I wrote a 6, 014 word stream of consciousness,
because that is what wanted to happen,
and just couldn’t be stopped…
In my eyes,
the essay is the ultimate colonizer…
No one reads essays anymore unless they have to,
which means that they’re marking them,
and assigning grades,
like a meat inspector…
And unfortunately,
this means that children in Kindergarten and Grade One,
in the public school system,
will continue to be forced through an extruder in the shape of an ABC,
because despite all of its education,
the academy can’t come up with any better way to assess and evaluate knowledge and understanding,
than the written word of argument,
5,000 of them,
in 11 font…
And so this is Christmas... and what have we here...
This morning my daughters Little Gem (7) and Starshine (1o) called from their other home,
and wanted to debrief their trip to Whistler…
They both has a very good time,
mostly because Starshine brought her new best friend along for the ride…
Little Gem told me,
Sunshine was so helpful when my sister was being mean to me…
She helped me calm down when I was so angry I was about to explode…
She gave me things to think about…
She really likes me,
and I really like her…
Starshine told me,
The trip would not have been nearly so much fun if I hadn’t had my friend along…
And by the way, I do the same thing for Sunshine and her little sister as she does for me and mine…
And they are way more physical…
Just so you know…
I said,
You’re both pretty effective mediators aren’t you???
Starshine said,
with self-confidence,
Yes, we are…
Last week Starshine and I were talking about her friendship with Sunshine…
These two girls have been at school together since Kindergarten,
but this is the first year that they have really connected…
Sunshine has always been best friends with Funnygirl…
I asked Starshine if Funnygirl is okay with how close she is with Sunshine,
and if Funnygirl ever feels left out,
or replaced…
I grew up in the thick energy of triangles…
Female possession and jealousy was always the name of the game,
at home,
and at school…
It has always been in and around me like a crude black oil that suffocates real love,
so I know it well…
But I’ve only recently allowed myself to feel it,
and clear it…
Starshine surprised me…
She said,
I’ve already talked to her about that…
I asked her how she felt about Sunshine coming with me to Whistler,
and if she feels okay about Sunshine and me hanging out so much…
She said it’s okay…
She and Sunshine have their own sleepovers without me..
so they get their own alone time…
I asked,
Do you believe her???
And do you think that she felt like she could be honest about her feelings???
Starshine without a doubt, said,
Yes I do…
I had to sit back,
and marvel…
And then talk myself into acknowledging,
that I may have had something to do with my child having that kind of foundation,
despite my own experiences,
and the climate she was born into…
I have said goodbye to a number of friends throughout my life…
I’m not one to hold onto relationships for the sake of Pete…
I remember not wanting to be around some people right from the beginning,
but I went along with them anyway,
because I was being pursued,
with presents…
Presents I never wanted,
or enjoyed…
Sacred gifts are different,
and you know it when you receive them,
in heart shaped boxes…
I have felt guilt about closing those doors,
and not knowing the right words to say as I exited stage left…
But recently I have been having dreams where those people come back to me,
and I’m telling them that I just couldn’t do it anymore,
and why…
They have said,
in this dreamtime,
Thank you,
for being a good friend,
and resolution comes to light…
I remember Starshine telling me about a blackline drawing that she did,
from her subconscious,
last school year…
She said,
I just let my hand move the pen,
and when it stopped I looked at the lines…
I saw two trees…
The trees were like me and my friend standing way too close,
and their roots were all tangled up together…
My roots want to dance,
all on their own…
When you're eight they're the kind that linger...
On the Solstice I ran into my old best friend,
just before I entered the space to walk a labyrinth…
I was nervous about seeing her,
but we just quickly said hello and I moved on…
She and I met in Kindergarten…
We had many sleepovers…
We skipped the same grade…
We went to the same mini-school for grade eight, nine, and ten…
We traveled in Europe…
We went our own way for a while and then met up again until we each had children…
Then I started to grow in a different direction,
exponentially,
and I didn’t feel like I could be myself with her anymore…
Something in me refused to play small or compete to see who knows more,
or who has the best idea…
I’m over fighting for air,
in an open field full of enough ideas,
and love for everyone,
without any poverty of expression…
This afternoon I turned on an old computer that has been collecting dust over in the corner,
a few minutes before I was about to load it up into the car,
and drop it off for recycling…
I thought it might detonate like a forgotten land mine,
but is started humming again like nobody’s business…
I read a string of short stories from what seems like such a long time ago now…
Stories holding the Mirror of Erised,
and The Sweetest Thing…
She took the pains of boyhood and turned them into feel good...
Just kittens…
People ask me,
Do you have pets???
My children beg me,
Can we get rabbits for Christmas???
I answer,
Aren’t mice in the stove,
silverfish in the basement,
and a slug under the fridge enough???
I’ve had pets in the past,
and once I have a back yard I’d like to have some again,
but one of the special things about me is that I am supra-sensitive,
and when the beings that I take responsibility for aren’t healthy,
and happy,
I go crazy…
In the past I’ve been criticized that my program for caring is too much…
I always wonder,
How much caring is too much???
and who thinks they have the right to stand outside of me,
and measure it…
Someone once told me,
after he picked up a Teddy Bear sunflower that I had touched,
You have had a life as a doctor,
on this land…
I see you racing down a dirt wagon trail on your horse,
about two hundred years ago,
to work on someone’s child,
and you’re frustrated that all you have is your horse and your kit…
You can’t get there fast enough,
and you feel like time is against you…
You need to know that in this life,
you have all the time and all the tools you need,
to get the job done…
But this might be why you can’t stand to be late,
and why you love other people SO much…
I didn’t know if any of that information was true,
so I just put the story in my clue box…
Hardly fit my mittens...
I had a pair of rabbits before my children were born…
I called them Benny and Joon…
Somehow,
one day,
Joon broke her back…
That kind of thing can happen to rabbits when they get all excited and leap around,
kicking out their back legs in the air with such enthusiasm for life,
that their bones fracture…
I remember the sound of her scream,
when Mr. Vet with no bunny experience,
pressed on her back while I held her in my arms,
and she fell to the floor,
until we put her in a lethal chamber,
and she flew to the other side…
I hope I never have to hear a child scream like a rabbit…
When it was Benny’s time to go,
and he needed some help,
my neighbour across the street facilitated the process…
She grew up in Trail,
with a family of hunters…
She said that she’d never do that kind of thing again,
until I told her that because of her courage to help,
I can hear Benny thumping the old growth beams that support the gabled story,
of my house,
and he’s always happy…
And I told her,
I wonder if he’s not watching over you too…
This made her smile through her tears,
in the middle of our street,
and this shared history has cemented our friendship…
…do you ever stop to think about the air that you breathe and the water that you drink…
I had to take two days off of work when Joon died…
When you open up a faucet that has been rusted closed for so long it is hard to shut it off,
in time for Monday morning…
Due to stories beyond the scope of this post I chose not to attend the service of a former student,
who died of heart failure,
while on a roller-blading play date with her boyfriend,
just after they’d say down on a riverside bench to enjoy a bag of chips…
When I went back to school with Benny,
and no Joon,
my class wanted to know where she was…
When I told them what had happened over the weekend they got busy writing at Choice Time,
for a trip to Pacific Spirit Park…
Notes like this:
dear Joon I love you but how did you died.
I know it and benny miss you a lot and me I miss you a lot too and I wish you were alive forever in school.
Love Augustus
My teacher is sad because Joon die.
Do you know why?
Because Joon hurt her back,
and when bunny’s hurt there back we can’t do nothing,
so we have to bury Joon,
because she hurt her back on Sunday.
love from Erica
From David and Brendan.
A letter.
Dear Joon,
We hope you are being good in heaven.
There was no end to the parents who volunteered to drive…
Everyone shared a favourite memory as we stood in a circle,
remembering our friend…
We watched the scary parts through our fingers...
I don’t know whose idea it was,
but laser tag was the planned activity for my father’s 70th birthday…
Starshine (10) wondered why Grampa would want to do that,
I’ve done it before,
for a birthday party,
and I couldn’t figure out why everyone found it fun…
Next weekend I’m going to a party where that is part of the plan…
I’m going to help my mom’s friend set up the food until that part is over…
I kept it to myself,
that in my life as a teacher,
I’ve had reoccurring dreams where I’m trying to get a group of children home safely,
and as I’m walking them from door to door they are being gunned down,
one by one,
and I don’t know how to protect them all…
Starshine said,
I’d rather go to a shooting range and do target practice with a gun,
or a bow and arrow,
that would be a real experience for developing responsibility…
I sent an e-mail to my sister saying we’d see everyone after the game,
and listed a few reasons why laser tag was not our idea of a good time,
as a test to see if she could keep anything to herself…
While we were eating the best pizza ever from the Steveston Pizza Company,
in my father’s kitchen,
my family of origin was on a campaign to justify the joy of laser tag…
My brother-in-law spent a good fifteen minutes trying to convince me,
despite the fact that I hadn’t and wasn’t saying a word,
how it was nothing like shooting at children…
He said,
in fact,
that it is exactly like bowling…
Starshine and I looked at each other,
with raised eyebrows,
me thanking Great Spirit for her,
and our shared understanding…
And we said,
to the whole group,
mind-to-mind,
when you get to a point in your life where when someone even looks at you without saying anything,
and you feel a bullet ripping through your chest,
and isn’t clear whether it was you or the other guy who pulled the trigger,
let us know,
and we’ll throw a rope into your worm hole…
FYI: http://www.geist.com/photo-essay/memory-and-valley?page=0,7
One day I'll be all grown up and strong...
Last Summer I had a dream that I was on a school bus full of adults and children…
And because I had resigned from my district and hadn’t allowed myself to be hired anywhere else yet,
I felt out of place,
as I watched the scenery…
A teacher was making coffee…
I struggled to vocalize,
with the feeling of two hands around my throat,
as I saw her pouring hot water into the coffee maker,
directly over children bouncing around in their seats…
I finally found the words and strength to call out,
STOP– LOOK-and-THINK about what you are doing…
The woman gazed at me,
like she’d been snapped out of a sleepwalk…
But it was too late,
as some of the water splashed and burned some buttery soft skin…
In the next scene I was sitting at a desk,
firmly writing school safety policy based on common sense,
with exquisite penmanship,
in full technicolour…
Rule #1:
For the love of God…
Never prepare,
or hold,
hot drinks around children…
Mother nature gives us everything we need... Imagine that...
Hop scotch..
In June 2008 William Gibson received a Doctor of Letters,
honoris causa,
from Simon Fraser University…
I wasn’t there for the ceremony,
and therefore missed the bagpipes leading the regalia,
into Convocation Mall…
But I went up Burnaby Mountain,
to attend a post-ceremonial gathering,
in the W.A.C. Bennett Library…
I remember asking Gibson if he ever worries,
that after completing a project,
nothing new will come…
That he’ll never get a better idea…
He looked at me like I was nuts,
and said,
something like,
Of course…
As I’m writing a book,
which I never admit to myself that I’m actually doing,
I’m thinking that this is the worst thing I’ve ever written,
and that no one will want to read it…
Every time I finish a book I think,
That’s it…
I have to wait for the weeds to grow up through the floor boards,
until they’re waist high,
all around me before
I get the feeling like,
I can start on something new again…
His wife added,
from the side of the room,
something like,
I hardly see him when he’s in his process…
He works alone in his room,
and when I hear him say something like
“This is the worst thing I’ve ever written!!!”
I know that he’s almost finished,
and I say,
“Just keep going dear,
you’re almost done…”
A woman came up to me,
after the conversation,
and asked,
Are you a writer???
I dismissed myself,
saying,
Ohmigod no…
Why would you ever think that???
She said,
Because your questions sound like you’re speaking from experience…
Like you know all about,
your last,
best idea…
I thought but didn’t say,
Yes, just like Rex Smith must have felt after singing You Take my Breath Away,
on the rooftop of Landsdowne Mall in Richmond, B.C.,
when I was in grade seven,
because not everyone is ready for an absence of segues…
This morning I checked my mailbox and came across the link,
to an article on school design…
As a student I spent more than enough time in portables,
and the 70’s noise of the Open Area…
Feeling the life sucked out of me,
by flourescent lighting,
asbestos insulation,
and wall-to-wall utility carpet…
As a teacher I worked in a classroom with small windows,
on only one of four walls…
Windows which looked,
onto a parking lot…
Under those kind of conditions,
I consumed chocolate,
every hour,
on the hour,
to keep my engines running…
Eventually a Secret Santa began to leave brandy-filled chocolate,
on my desk,
with anonymous notes like,
To get you through this Pineapple Express…
Then I remembered the power of homemade bison jerky,
and winter wanderings,
through suburban neighbourhoods,
for getting through the heart of darkness,
into some northern light,
with my class…
A principal,
with reptilian eyes,
once said to me,
when I told her that I needed to move across the pod,
to the sunny side of the school,
for my mental and physical health,
when a classroom opened up,
due to a retirement,
If that’s what you need,
you better post into an another school…
One of those old schools with big windows…
I gave her the finger,
professionally,
and I know that she got the message…
I would walk across a field of broken glass for the last principal I worked under…
She teased me about being woowoo but she never said,
NO,
only,
I just needed some time to think about what you’re asking for…
I’ve just put in a work order for renovating the whole school,
with full spectrum lighting,
and a fire pit for the school yard…
I always loved singing ’round the campfire,
when I was a Girl Guide back in Kingston…
It has always been clear to me that the people who design schools have never been in a school,
worked in a school,
or have any idea what kind of atrocities a forced physical structure,
can inflict on children,
and adults,
who spend the best part of their waking hours,
in an institution…
And if they have,
it killed their creativity…
This morning I read these words,
and I COULD NOT believe my ears,
When Daniel Cecil was named lead architect for Kennebunk Elementary School in 2001, he took the school’s motto, “Look through the eyes of a child and see the wonders of the world,” to heart…
“Students must also be able see themselves in the building,” he says. “Images of kids must be visible throughout.”
To this end, whimsical drawings showing children relaxing in nature and animals participating in games — rabbits playing hopscotch, beavers bouncing on seesaws, and bears gliding down slides — are found in most common areas. Like the windows and skylights, earth-tone color schemes and nature-oriented themes bring a sense of outdoor wonder inside the school when the days are short, the sun is scarce, and the snow piles up.”
Read the full text with some critical integrity, for yourself…
http://www.edutopia.org/kids-eye-view#
Since when do whimsical drawings showing children relaxing in nature and animals participating in games — rabbits playing hopscotch, beavers bouncing on seesaws, and bears gliding down slides,
have anything to do with looking through the eyes of a child,
the wonders of the world,
or an education…
I never saw beavers on seesaws or bears on slides when I was a kid,
except at Disneyland…
This projection of cheap graphics and corporate culture onto children,
and the people who work with them,
crosses the 49th parallel to dominate Canadian schools because we,
as Canadians,
allow it…
This summer a friend who works in a newly renovated wing,
of an old school,
with big windows,
said to me,
with visceral grief,
something like,
My whole pedagogy (the way teaching and learning happens) had to change when I moved into my new classroom…
I used to have all my students involved in ongoing projects and now there isn’t any space…
I had to pack up my arts and crafts table…
There are windows in the room but I can only open one of them a crack…
Last June I had to buy a spray bottle for every child during the heat wave…
It was the only way we could survive the inferno…
YOU should SEE Charles Dickens Elementary…
Rainwater is collected from the roof to flush the toilets,
but the classrooms are so small that teachers can’t do what they used to do,
with their students…
Why don’t people who build schools ever talk to teachers???
Or kids???
When I woke up this morning I had no idea what I was going to do today,
or that I was going to write about this…
But after doing the dishes,
and guzzling a glass of organic carrot juice,
instead of shooting Vodka straight into my jugular,
it just happened…
Canuck'd 