Friday, 26 June 2009

Last Day of School - Graduation


Every year this day roles around. A day to launch out the next batch from the factory institute/school were I work. I realize that you can't relate to each kid and the process of processing them can be a drag. Meaningless rules and layers of bureaucracy. Yet, the advocacy of students and the ability to relate to the students is a criteria that my superiors look at every 5 years when they evaluate us teachers...disconnect.
The only teachers that meant anything to me are the ones that made an effort to relate to me as a person - not some robot marching through the halls that was there to be built and launched from the front doors. Too many teachers forget what it means and meant to be a kid. Which teachers did they like, and thus work hard for and with? I bet they all hated the ones having meeting to think of new ways to keep the kids in line.
I have no desire to antagonize a teenager. I just want to meet some, work with them, help them out, relate to them human-teacher to human-student. There is a distinction, but we, as teachers, should be more positive more often and be the teachers that we would want, need and respect in the teenage version that we once were.
To end this, less than tight, ramble let me say. Props to Dubeau for getting up in front of his colleagues and hammering home the need for positive thinking. To paraphrase: "mention the good things, because other are sure to bring up the bad" - he also has his students mention two things the they liked about the year and one that they didn't. Smart: more positives than negatives. Good on him for sharing this with us.
I head out now to reload, refresh, rethink and prepare to meet more students in September.
Wish me well, and always: send me your wisdom.

Tuesday, 9 June 2009

Gravenomics


About a week ago the band, Graven, pulled into town and ripped things up - down in the market. I had to pull my creaky bones out of my soccer-dad lawn chair and see this event in person. Other Ottawans and Iawahians of all shapes and creeds rambled out of the suburbs to hear "the lads". Many old friends got together and bent a few taps. The beer flowed smooth and cold like Matt's sonic power chords. Graven played a tight set - so check these lads out. I asked my friend Bill Henry if liked the rock show. He replied: "yes". Nuff Said!
I went home later, shaken', cranking the Graven CD over the fields of Navan. Cows, chickens and sheep looked up in shock - and oddly enough - pleasure. As an aside: Farmer Henkl, my neighbour, told me that because of Graven's EP his cows gave more milk than ever. Right on.
Graven brought the sound and reforged a community. The revolution has begun.

Tuesday, 12 May 2009

Mr. Deeds - A true story.


Yesterday a mother and father were approaching some bleachers on the rugby pitch. Their son was knocking the all living out of some poor sacks from some unlucky school. A fellow parent saw them and said: "come sit next to me; I saved you a seat". The first parent with the rugged son said "as usual". The bleacher dad then dashed off this gem: " she (the other dad's wife) can sit on my face". WOW! That play was way offside.

Mr. Deeds would have asked him to refrain - if he wouldn't Mr. Deeds would punch him in the face. Maybe the husband should have...at least done something. He just chuckled as his wife blushed. Weird.

Over on another set of bleachers a grade nine lad was cussing worse than Ricky and Bubbles. In front of some nice young ladies. Mr. Deeds...

I thought that maybe we should go back to not cussing in front of or about women. Fair?

Today my opinion had to shift. Virtually every f-bomb that I heard lobbed about the hallowed halls where I work were bursting out of girls' mouths. Even Mr. Deeds in his supreme wisdom would be a loss.

Crazy society. I thinks Jesus is, more or less, in accord with Mr. Deeds. But society is not. Where do we go from here? Thoughts?

Wednesday, 15 April 2009

Sick and 1984


The term "sick" has morphed over the years. It used to mean bad, in the non-Michael Jackson, sense. Calling someone sick in '84 would get you a cuff about the ears and teeth. I'm sick right now - being sick is not sick; in the current sense. I'm considering the Dutch wine cure: drink wine until your cold is gone. Could work.

1984 didn't end in an Orwellian blast. For me 1984 was the beginning. That was the year that I bought my first tape/album: Van Halen 1984. It still holds up as a very fine album. An album full of classic hits and a few rare gems too: Jump, Panama and Hot for Teacher...yeah! Getting your first rock album is moment of passage. I'm glad that my first album, bought with my own dough, was so nice. Shit...Culture Club would have gotten me a solid boot circle - so I made the right call. Van Halen 1984 - a most sick album. This is the album that launched my total love of music - just slap that tape into my yellow, sporty, Sony Walkman - very choice.

What right of passage is there today for the youth of our nation? My first legal download? Crazy times. Send me back to 1984...besides maybe I would not have to drink so much wine.

Wednesday, 8 April 2009

Snoop Bloggie Blog


There are moments in life that just seem to transcend. You feel this deep feeling of rightness. Pure goodness can do this for me.

- cold beers in an icy pail, bbq smoking, wind in the trees.
- a perfect song as I roll down an empty road
- strumming a flat top guitar and finding that sweet chord

What is your moment? Joseph Campbell called this a place of bliss. Zen Monks would pause and compose a haiku. Maybe...modern society needs to snag these moments and recognize them and give them their due credit, value and worth.

Certain songs can do this; I listened to the new Tragically Hip album this morning on the way to the wheel of which I'm a cog. I could barely work - I was drunk with euphoria. I came in telling people to convert to the church of Gord Downie. Read: get these tunes right now.

The thought that I'm having is what makes these moments so great? What causes this huge connection with the universe? Cool shit though.

Also, it is an impossible concept to teach. Kids don't really get haiku...but hey maybe they will someday; when they have one of these moments of super clarity and rightness.

Go get one of these moments for yourself...find your place of bliss.

Being Grown Up

Being an adult is rough one. As a kid I always bounced back from a lot of the evils that befell me. Kids tend to move on; stare at the Star Wars poster on their bedroom wall and watch toons with a bowl of frosted flakes.

Somedays I'm reaching for my PS3 controller, the Bible, a book of old philosophy, beers with a chaser or some tender tunes from a great band. Nothing seems to really set my mind at ease. But hey maybe a few transcendent moments will help.

I'd trade it all for a big rock solid faith...maybe.

The journey is the thing though. Right?

Okay, last couple of days two teens that I know are dying of cancer, and one student of mine from a couple of years ago has schizophrenia. Brutal - not like a catch phrase - but really brutal. These kids have to pack their lives into a short little span.

I'm stuck thinking about these folks and their kin. How do you hold up? Being a grown up, in a way, just means loading up the burdens and bearing on.

Do you give this burden to Jesus? - I wish it was that easy. What does that really take?

Pick a metaphor: life is a burden, life is a journey, life is ...distractions, life is growing up...

Thursday, 26 March 2009

Kicking Down the Old Dirty Trail...a Ramble


Sometimes I just dive into a faith...sometimes I find myself diving out. Lately I've been playing Metal Gear Solid. I get addicted like mad when I'm in these phases.


I wonder should I pull out and do something good and real and pure.


Should I just play my old beat up flat top while sipping a couple o'buds from an icy pail. That feels like the answer right now.


Crazy as it sound I put a lotta faith and comfort into my dog; Bonnie the pug. You may look at her and see a fat, one-eyed, flat faced little fucker, but that little canine was my best pal. Something right and good about the loyalty of a dog. Some of the best songs ever written by the likes of Neil Young and Fred Eaglesmith are about their dogs. That dog made me feel real good after a day slamming away at the frontiers of ignorance and the bureaucratic behemoth of education.


On March 10th at 6am ish that fuckin' dog took off, ran away and got hit by a car...dead. I cried for 4 days. Brutal. I live in a world were, so far, I've cried more for a dog than any person; except, maybe, my little baby brother.


Too many blogs on Death too. Life is just a bigger bitch when the young, the cool, and the dear ones pass on from this vail of tears.


We've all got these trials - I'm just not sure why we are on trial. Guess its time to get a new dog. Maybe start a "funner" blog too.