A very short post this week, mostly because for the first time in a year I’m doing a proper job, and consequently feeling rather more tired than usual. I can take a nap at almost any given moment, work or not, but this week I’ve been dropping off (after work, not in work!) very easily. I close my eyes at the end of a chapter, and then wake with a start much later. A normal readjustment to employment, not old age…
The last day of my shortlived attempt at early retirement was spent on Long Beach, a Labour Day Monday where the early morning grey of low cloud and fog – might as well get a job, summer is over – lifted, and the sun shone and skies were blue – should have tried harder at being retired.
I’ll miss the lazy days, like the ones spent waiting for a plumber to come and fix my renovations, but I’m looking forward to being a bit more purposeful, and Mrs. PC is looking forward to seeing me head out the door, leaving her in peace to get on with her research. Apparently, we can always get someone in to complete any unfinished works. Are there any?
Why is the back to school week always warm and sunny? No matter where I’ve lived, or what age I am, it is always sunny in early September. The universe can sometimes be tough on those involved in education. Parents always seem happier than usual this time of year…
Anyway, I hope you have had a pleasant week, whether you’re back to school or not, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!
A few weeks ago we wandered onto the edge of some Tofino tidal mudflats, wondering what we might see. Taking care not to disturb habitat, and squelching about, we uncovered riches in the mud – we discovered silver. An incredible trove right under our noses. We hit the mother lode! (I’d best come clean here, although you’ve probably already guessed…)
What wealth was found? Silver? Yes and no. Not the fill your pockets and consider yourself materially wealthy kind of silver. The treasure was finer than solid silver – if your mind works that way.
The early morning mist had cleared, and the tide receded. The sun shone down on the flats and they glittered and sparkled. The mud was dazzling! A silvery sheen and shine, and what was a beautiful sight became even more so. It almost hurt to look at it.
It is so quiet on the inlet side, a marked contrast to the constant surf sounds of the Pacific not so far away. You can hear the movement of water, the mud oozing and shifting. The air is rich, earthy and salty, full of life. The water rises, the water falls, and the landscape changes constantly. It is a fragile environment, one that sustains an astonishing diversity of life. It is Planet Food. Creatures wriggle, burrow, scuttle and buzz in, on, over, and under the mud.
Look down, and it is delicate and intricate immediately under your feet. Look up, and it is vast and seemingly unending as you stare into the distance. What a place to be!
The silver disappeared as the sun moved through the sky, changing angle. It became less silver, but no less of a treasure. Two children were exploring the flats, perfectly immersed in their tasks and surroundings, unplugged yet completely connected. Imagine seeing such finery and it isn’t artificial, superficial, gaudy or brash. A huge treasure you can’t (or shouldn’t) keep and covet, or own in an acquisitive way. It isn’t for that.
Natural treasures large and small are all over the planet and never that far away for most of us. They have a value and importance beyond financial numbers. They aren’t possessions, but responsibility for them belongs to all of us. Imagine if we changed our thinking about what value means, what wealth means. Is it possible we could already be rich, living on this giant ball of amazing value? It’s there if you choose to see it.
Treasure beyond measure! I know, I know – there are harsh economic and political realities for billions on the planet – but allow me some out of touch tree-hugger wishful thinking. It doesn’t have to be this way. Must’ve inhaled something leaking from that mud…
A very short post this week – I’m being swamped by report cards. (To be honest, I do quite enjoy writing them, and exploring my ability to stretch the truth without falling into fiction…)
Instead of spending a Sunday working on report cards, and demonstrating my dedication to education, we decided to take a short drive out east. Tough decision, howls of protest, but in the end I went with it. Meaning to take a short hike up and down the river banks in Wyndham-Carseland Provincial Park, our hike turned out to be very brief. The scene was so captivating, and the sun was so high! We ended up sitting by the flowing Bow, in a shady spot on a warm afternoon. The river was up after recent rainfall, and the sound of the rushing water was soothing to an old fellow dozing in his camp chair.
I didn’t fall asleep completely. The wind in the trees added an extra layer of sound that was very pleasant. The breeze was enough to take the edge off the heat in the valley bottom. The best sounds of all? Bird song! Tree swallows, warblers, red winged blackbirds, robins, cormorants, ducks and geese. Those were the ones I did recognize, although my lack of bird knowledge has left me with generic rather than precise recognition. Need to work on that! Pretty sure we saw a yellow warbler – it was pretty for sure. Far in the distance, a hawk wheeled and climbed until out of sight. Ducks splashed on take off and landing, and geese flapped by, honking along the river.
Those swallows are acrobats! A few wing beats to get above the water, and then a steep or shallow dive to snag a bug, over and over, up and down. I swear one did a ninety degree left turn on a dime. What a display, all speed and grace, and an occasional flash of iridescent green. A joy to watch.Sometimes the best way to tackle report cards is to leave them at home and go take a nap. Rest your eyes, stare off into the distance, empty your head, or fill it with something else. Be lulled by the river song, rest and recharge, and then head back for an early evening beer. A beer? But what about those – never mind. I can’t write under the influence. Have to finish them another day.
A short post this week. Did I mention I seem to be swamped by report cards? It’s all about time management and priorities. Fortunately, I am a professional with focus. Hold on! What’s that sound? I think I hear the call of the river…
Thanks for reading, and have a wonderful weekend!
PS I finished the report cards earlier today. I know you were wondering…
…and tilted. Disjointed? Like many a PlaidCamper post this past winter? Maybe. This one is all over the place – best keep it brief.
At school, we’ve been learning about the Solar System. Heads were spinning as students grappled with the idea that our Earth rotates on a 23.5 degree tilted axis. The fact that we live on a speeding ball, traveling at thousands of kilometres per hour had heads tilting in thought. Learning why we have seasons, why they are opposite in each hemisphere, and about the intricate celestial dance that stars and planets have been engaged in for many millennia has been a cosmic experience. More stars than there are grains of sand on a beach. Far out.
We’ve been measuring the increasing daylight hours, and slowly shedding some of the winter layers. Evidence that seasons are changing. It’s a long winter, and you take your fun where you can find it. Like watching in amusement as twenty-five students stumble around a murky cloakroom designed for fewer and smaller children. They bounce off the walls and each other in their attempts to pull on snow pants, snow boots, bulky coats and assorted knitwear. Gloves and mittens are dropped and lost underfoot. It’s a brave student that falls on hands and knees to try and find a missing mitt. It’s grim in there. They do this several times each day. I stand well back…
Studying the sky puts things in perspective. Grains of sand, and all that. Maybe you feel that the world is off balance, tilted somehow, especially since the turn of the year and all the dreary noise and nonsense. All that extra unpleasant hot air and bloated nastiness emanating from the DC area. Still, maybe we’re only experiencing a bit of a blip, if you take the longer view. Yes, the air will be less clean, and harder to breathe. Water will be more contaminated. There will be fewer trees and more greenhouse gases. People will be marginalized, discriminated against, and freedoms and environmental protections will be curtailed.
It is bad, yet it helps to remember the planet really is tilted, and that part is ok. The sun does come up and go down each day. The real dance has been going on for many years, and will continue past the next four (or eight – heaven help us) years of irritating sideshow, and then far, far, beyond. Our young people are truly interested in the big picture, and their small part in taking collective responsibility for the speeding ball they inhabit. The students I’m teaching this year are (amongst other things) Canadian, First Nation, Somali, Indian, Lebanese, Russian, Pakistani, Tibetan, Haitian, Afghan and Ethiopian. These little Earthlings love to look up at the sky. And even if they drop a mitten and are looking down, they can be tremendously resilient and good natured. After all, how many of us could emerge unscathed and happy after nearly six winter months of the cloakroom dressing challenge? They are stellar.
A tilted and disjointed piece this week, and an attempt to recognize disequilibrium is in fact part of a greater pattern. Groovy.
Teacher: Goodness! Are you alright? What happened?
Student: I fell over!
Teacher: But your arm is okay? Yes? Tell me the story!
Student: Well, I was going down the hill, and then I fell over!
We took a group of grade 5/6 students to WinSport, formerly Canada Olympic Park, at the west edge of Calgary. What an opportunity! Cold and sunny, not too windy, so what’s not to like? Three days of ski or snowboard instruction – why, that’s almost as good as three days in a classroom with Mr. PlaidCamper…
The rest of my week has been spent writing report cards, so the post is from the mouths of students. I started off with the tale of the broken arm – that’s what we thought when Ski Patrol radioed in and said there’d been an accident. Fortunately, ice , sympathy and time revealed no more than soreness and what I hoped would be quite the tale. We’ll do some work on embellishment and tall stories next week in class, because what you read above is the story D told me – he fell over.
Let’s try another one:
Student: When I was living in Nigeria, I had a dream about playing in snow. Today I will try snowboarding. God has given me a gift from my dream.
Teacher: That’s lovely, J – but do you think you could push your foot a little harder into your boot?
Student: I think I need smaller feet, Mr. PC.
Teacher: An interesting idea J, but perhaps we’ll try the next boot size up first?
J did get a larger size up, and he did spend three days learning to snowboard. Or three days playing in the snow. His first Canadian winter, and he’s embracing it!
How about P, who has ASD and loves Star Wars:
Student: Can I keep the boots? I’m like a stormtrooper on a snowboard. When I go home, I’m making lego Darth Vader on skis.
Teacher: Would Darth prefer snowboarding?
Student: No, he skis and Han Solo snowboards.
Fair enough. I’m looking forward to that movie.
Here are a few more snippets from students, and I have to say they thoroughly enjoyed their time on the “mountain”!
My butt hurts!
Can I switch to skiing? (After seeing a skier blast by)
Can I switch to snowboarding? (Snowboarder blasted by)
My board is the wrong colour – I need a blue one! (We did establish that colour likely wasn’t the issue, and that getting up and trying again helps…)
My butt hurts!
Can we eat this snow?
Are you really related to Shaun White, Mr. PC? (Not exactly, but there are similarities, don’t you think?)
But Shaun White has hair!
My butt hurts!
Can we come back next week?
Oh, how I wish we could be back there next week. Seeing students fall over, flail around a bit, realize they’ll have to pick themselves up, and then do so with a smile and a laugh, really gives me hope. Their character is revealed, and they start to realize that work, effort and play can, sometimes, be pretty much the same thing.
Thanks for reading, please feel free to share a story, and have a wonderful weekend!
Calm colours to enjoy during a frantic period of time. The past five days seemed rather long…almost without end…an endurance trial…(alright, so I’m exaggerating!)
A very short post this week – if this got published and you’re reading it, I must have somehow made it to the end of term! Most of the time I enjoy my job and the students I teach, but the final week before winter break has never been in my top ten of fun times. If you are lucky enough to be involved in education, then you understand. If you don’t, trust me, for this week only, you’re lucky enough not to be involved in education!
Our plan to prepare for the week was to spend last weekend in Yoho, chilling in a little cabin and taking a hike around beautiful Emerald Lake. Yes, again, and why not?! It’s different every time, and last week was no exception. The temperature climbed to a reasonable -12C, and that was good enough to layer up and get out.
The freshest air, the squeaky snow underfoot, the astonishing silence when we stood still, and the silver, blue and grey of the landscapes all combined to make a memorable hike. It was just enough to keep an old PlaidCamper mentally charged and ready to face the week. Phew! Thank you, Emerald Lake. Natural magic, and we might have to head back out there soon…
Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend – if you’re lucky enough to be in education, isn’t this Saturday one of the best?! Enjoy it!
This past week was spent with a small group of 12 year old students out in Kananaskis. They – we – were learning more about teamwork, leadership, and meeting challenges together. Fun stuff, and one big challenge was the super subzero temperatures. The daytime highs were minus 20C, and in the valleys and shadows a touch colder than that. At sun up yesterday, it was minus 35! Yikes – toe freezing temperatures!
It was certainly a talking point amongst the students – and they were sold on the notion that few people can say they’ve experienced what they did in such temperatures! I was so happy to see them rise to the challenge of skill building and cooperating when it could have been easy to complain. Yes they mentioned the temperatures (hard to ignore!), but most of the time they cheerfully stepped up and reached personal goals set each day. City kids with very little outdoor winter experience between them, they were delighted to be in a wonderful setting and were heard exclaiming how pretty the landscape was.
They did have to hug trees, because it’s mandatory on all Mr. PC field trips, even if it isn’t an explicit curriculum requirement. (It should be!)
It was too cold for high ropes, but not too cold to learn a knot or two, or learn how to lash logs together to build a rudimentary shelter (although it was too cold and getting too dark to hang around and finish it!)
It was too cold to bore into trees (they were frozen) and extract a core sample, but it wasn’t too cold to hike to Chilver Lake (one student renamed it Shiver Lake) and admire a long view in the late afternoon.
No sign of the cougar seen by many the previous week, but deer tracks, coyote tracks, and squirrel tracks were everywhere – those little guys are so industrious and could still be spotted scampering from tree to tree and scurrying up trunks. It was too cold to stand around watching for long, but they always excited our students.
Seeing students learning and problem solving together far from their regular classroom, and in trying conditions, gives me hope for the future. Not just their appreciation for the environment, although that is essential. No, it’s something else as our generation looks to the next. Let’s face it, when I’m in the retirement home (many, many decades hence), the young ones we’re teaching today will be (amongst other things) the healthcare policy makers, care workers, nurses and doctors looking after me in my dotage.
I take this seriously. Imagine you’re bedridden, awaiting the next dose of medication, the door opens and that student from way back when walks in – surprise! You know, the one you’d wished you’d helped a bit more in, say, measurement and math, especially as now they’re stood in the doorway holding a large syringe. Those thoughts keep you focused when teaching, let me tell you…
Anyway, on the basis of what I observed this past week, there are going to be some fine citizens taking responsibility for themselves and each other in the future. Too cold wasn’t possible for these young people – and, one day, we might all be safe in their hands. A happy thought.
Thanks for reading, please feel free to share a story, and have a wonderful weekend! (Stay warm…)