Happy Aboriginal Day

We celebrated early here on Cortes Island, and what a beautiful day it was: a clear sunny sky with a light breeze so the eagles could play above as we played below.
I spent our Aboriginal Day at the Klahoose Village where the children of the island were invited again this year for what I hope is becoming an annual tradition. We were treated to stories, songs, and prayers - offered in the traditional language and interpreted for the benefit of the non-Aboriginal guests.
Traditional skills were shared and the children were happily engaged in one or more activities. We did beading and cedar weaving. We made medicine bags and dreamcatchers. We made bannock and "Indian Tacos". We ate an amazing meal, including traditionally prepared salmon, all generously supplied by our hosts.

There were many lovely moments in this day, and one I will treasure was a private moment in the woods gathering a bit of cedar to put in my new medicine bag. I was thinking about the medicine bag hanging in my car, faded now after eleven years. It was a gift from an Ojibway neighbour in Winnipeg who gave it to us as we started our long drive across the country - to keep us safe. Lost in my thoughts, I startled a deer and listened as it thumped off into the trees toward the shore. It is easy to imagine this island in the days before contact. I watched the sunlight bounce off the water and for a second, I could almost see the great canoes.
As I sit here and look at the Circle of Courage above my desk, I am reminded that Generosity is one of the most basic and important virtues we nurture in our children. Our First Nations neighbours did it beautifully today. The children enjoyed and appreciated the bounty of the day.
These little ones will grow and learn more about the history of their hosts. Some of that will be hard to hear. And then, they will remember days like this one and realize the true depth of  generosity we all witnessed today.
The sun sets with a hopeful glow over Cortes tonight.

Monica is the author of "Thanks for chucking that at the wall instead of me."

Salmonberry Arts

Visiting a great new website as a guest blogger today. Why don't you come with me?
http://salmonberry.ca/transcend/

I don't get it . . .

As a teacher in British Columbia, perhaps my voice should be dismissed with the din of rhetoric floating in the off-shore breeze these days. I am a teacher-on-call in a small school on a remote island. I think my perspective on the current labour dispute between the BCTF and the provincial government is a little different; not just for the aforementioned reasons but also, and perhaps mostly, because I am about as uninformed and – dare I say it – uninterested in the politics of education as a teacher can be.

I know – shocking, right? I am appalled at myself and I do hereby resolve to pay more attention and be informed and maybe even involved. Well, informed, anyway. Baby steps.

I have been a teacher in BC on and off for the past decade and teaching has taken a backseat to other pursuits in that time. (Again, not an excuse for my apathy, just FYI . . .)

Previous to that, I taught in Manitoba where I was more fully engaged. I do believe I was even the union rep for my little school one year.

In a decade here, I have witnessed three rounds of job action. In over fifteen years in Manitoba, none. I have clear memories of working with people from the Manitoba Department of Education on a couple of different projects.  When I look back at this, I notice that at the time it seemed perfectly normal to me that those ultimately responsible for the education of children in the province would be the first to roll up their sleeves when there was an opportunity to improve the system. Imagine my surprise to arrive on the coast and discover the long-standing wall of animosity between the two bodies of people responsible for educating the children and youth of BC.

Here’s how BC public education looks to a periphery-dweller like me: Teachers are the people hired to deliver the program carefully designed and honed by the department whose sole responsibility is to ensure the quality education of our children. Right? Well, isn’t that enough to worry about? To deliver the program? To deliver the program in how ever many languages the kids in your class speak and to deliver it to touch on as many different learning styles as possible to accommodate all the different types of learners in your group. To adjust each unit to varying speeds, ability levels, and in the case of our little school here, to deliver curriculum to 3, 4, or even 5 different grades in the same classroom. To connect with each and every child and ensure they feel safe and cared for, that they experience success, that they feel challenged but supported. To connect with every family and make sure you understand the children so that every need is met. That seems like enough to me. For a more detailed picture of the daily life of a public school teacher, listen to this: https://soundcloud.com/cknwnewstalk980/charmaine-shortts-letter

So riddle me this: How have those hired to deliver this program turned into the group responsible for defending the rights of children against those whose very mandate IS the well-being of the children? Why on earth am I standing on a picket line trying to get the government to be reasonable about supporting children when I should be figuring out the most creative and effective way possible to deliver THEIR education program to OUR children?

What happened in this province to create a system in which the teachers must defend the education rights of the child against the agency created for the education of the child?

            I don’t get it.

Monica is the author of "Thanks for chucking that at the wall instead of me."

Writer's Blah

Having a never-ending supply of opinions, it is a rare thing for me to run out of words. But, it has happened at last. For the past month or so, I have written next to nothing and it's not so much Writer's Block as it is Writer's Blah.
I have been roaming blindly through the land of Perimenopause this past year and things are not improving. While I acknowledge that half the population deals with this particular challenge, I have to say, some women are better equipped to handle this than others.
First of all, I have never given birth, so apart from the usual monthly visit from . . .  (insert family euphemism here), I have no experience with serious hormone fluctuations. And, having had a regular and reasonable cycle, I was not prepared for this new world. I have been blind-sided by a set of symptoms I am ill-equipped to handle.
Earlier this week, in a one-sided conversation with the dog (not a symptom), I heard myself use the word, "jealousness". I kid you not. And when I heard myself say it, I knew immediately it was wrong, but was unable to come up with "jealousy" for several seconds. First it was funny, then disconcerting, then terrifying. Thankfully, the dog had the sense not to laugh because the instant anger thing is also pretty upsetting. (Just ask the unwitting - and unhelpful - Canadian Tire employee I snapped at last week. I'm pretty sure he had it coming, but what the heck? Where is all this rage coming from?)
Two days ago, I started to climb into a hammock for a test drive . . . and one end of it was being held up by my partner!
Today, I tried to get a plumber to write me a receipt he never gave me that, of course, he did give me and here it is in the file where I put it. In the Rock-Paper-Scissors game of life, Hormones beat Brain Cells every time!
I cry about 4 times a day, I'm tired all the time and my mood swings go from euphoric to despondent. Swing time ranges from days to minutes. I'm serious - minutes!
I went to my doctor and told her I wanted to rule out brain tumour or borderline personality disorder and make sure this was all just hormones. I told her I wanted to make sure it wasn't something "real" because I felt somewhat debilitated. She listened to me downplay it and when it was her turn to talk, she started with this: "Well, women have killed themselves, and others." So I smartened up and listened. I now take 634 vitamins per day.
I was told at a writing workshop to "take everything to the page" but there have been a lot of days when I could barely take it to the kettle to make my morning coffee. I'm doing the best that I can and I am greatly encouraged to be sitting here typing right now.
If anyone else is being slapped around by perimenopause, I leave you with this hope: while the average span of perimenopause is 3-4 years, it can last as long as a decade.
Hey, Stupid Guy at Canadian Tire . . . watch your back!