Tag: education

Re: Wing

I’ve been watching a pair of seagulls raise a pair of puffy looking offspring this past breeding season. I have a vantage point that makes me feel like a voyeur some days and an anxious grandparent on other occasions. When the parents seem in a panic as they defend their own privacy, their nest, and then their nestlings, I can’t help but believe that I’m witnessing the reason for the phrase, ‘Living on a Wing and a Prayer.’

In my home I have a folk-art sculpture of a single herring gull I made to scale out of wire, plaster casting material, and paint. I call him Webster. He reminds me that I share this planet with other sentient beings; capable of being parents, babies, teens, and ultimately road kill. Webster reminds me of the circle of life for all living things. Some times we are required to go-with-our-gut by winging it and hoping for the best outcome.

For soaring birds like gulls, it appears that the sky is virtually the limit. As I watched the repetitive runs by my neighbour avian parents, returning from a hunt, regurgitating, and flying off again, I wondered about my past role as a parent looking after the needs of my growing boys. When the emotional weather was stable and resources were in good supply the job of preparing my kids for flight seemed routinely easy. But on stormy, unpredicted days it seemed all I could do was find shelter for my trio in the nest that I had painstakingly built with my wife.

Immature gulls must be trained. Reaching the size of their parents doesn’t guarantee successful flight. I can’t imagine what that risky leap from 3 stories up must feel like. Presently I watch as they bob on the waves near shore hoping for a handout from the latest military-like feeding style of the local harbour seals. Those marine mammals hunt in pairs, laying a bubble trap for minnows then exploding through the centre of the curtain to gobble a mouthful. Gulls, young and old, wade nearby looking for scraps.

A common human dream, next to appearing in our underwear, is being in flight, soaring above our problems and having the advantage of the sky as our higher ground. From there, while on-the-wing, we observe our possibilities and potential from a more commanding perspective. I wonder if that is an advantage that my gull friends are aware of as they take wing each morning. Looking for an updraft to lessen their need to flap they squawk like they know the meaning of freedom, even boasting of their superpower.

I can only imagine that first flight feeling by engineers like the Wright Brothers. Or of poet/pilot John Gillespie Magee Jr. as he “slipped the surly bonds of earth” on “laughter- silvered wings.” When I daydream of joining my fine feathered friends in fantastical flight I soar through clouds that comfort me as a blanket might when my mood is blue. Up there I’m away from the perils of a human Earth.

Re: Sex

I never had a birds and the bees discussion with my father, perhaps consequently I was averse to having ‘the talk’ with my three sons. To even write about sex makes my typing fingers go all jittery. Thank goodness for auto correct while I try to navigate the politically incorrect. I may be timid about the topic of sex but I champion its inclusion in classrooms.

Currently North Americans are getting all hot and bothered about how sexuality, sexual orientation, sexual preference, and sexual identity can be taught in schools. Children’s rights are being trampled as we claw at each other over who is the responsible distributor of sex information. When it comes to sex curricula we all share the book, even though there is no single definitive volume on the subject. Parents, teachers, administrators, politicians are all probably a bit shy when it comes right down to how to approach sex.

We rarely open up about our sexual body parts. In the art world, some dare to showcase those things that are obvious whenever we step from the shower. The penis rarely gets talked about or even seen unless it’s associated with a crime scene. It is taboo in film to show a penis unless it’s a rubber one. I remember seeing an ad for a bunch of male performers who would play with their organs like a puppet (originated in Australia called Puppetry of the Penis, I never went, too embarrassed, but very curious in an innocent way). I’ve been to a performance of Vagina Monologues and remember being stunned by the bravery of the cast to talk about such intimate things. As a lover of language, I am amused by the variety of descriptions for our sex bits: A hot dog bun, a mussel, an acorn, a mushroom, a zucchini, a kiwi. Funny how we use items in the grocery store to help define what lies unexposed in our underwear. The pseudonyms for penis and vagina, even breasts, can fill a book or at least the length of a comic’s stand-up routine. Over sexualizing our body parts is part of the communication problem. An abundance of puritanical privacy and secrecy makes any issue of sexuality ripe for problematic intercourse or discourse.

Sex is an activity, an orientation, an identity or a bad word depending who is doing the talking

Much of what I thought I learned as a child about sexiness came from Playboy magazines that my friend and I would find in our apartment building’s basement storage lockers. We’d show each other pictures, giggling nervously while wondering if we’d get caught. When I taught students of that same age in sexual health classes, I was professional enough to engage them seriously. Many parents sat in on my tutorials, telling me how discussion continued with their children after going home. The recent British television drama Sex Education does an excellent job breaking down stereotypes and common misconceptions.

Conquering our bashfulness will be a first step toward talking to each other about who we are meant to be.

Re: Flight

When my thoughts take flight I am lifted above clouds of doubt. My thinking sets me free to soar above conflicting emotions. I can see more clearly the path ahead.

I happened to be in our parking lot when our neighbour, I now call him Captain, was just coming home from work. I learned that he was accumulating hours for a commercial pilot’s licence that would get him an elite job back in his home country. We got talking about my time with the Dept. of Fish & Wildlife in Ontario, since that was the last time that I was a passenger in a small aircraft. I told him I had never been in the co-pilot’s seat and he said, “What are you doing tomorrow?”

He rapped on my door at 10:30 the next morning. At the airport, the Captain had to check-in so I filled in time with a look around a part of our airport dedicated to pilots and the Victoria Flight Club. I gazed out to the tarmac curiously wondering which of the planes parked there would be ours to fly.

All the paper work done, we walked to our plane and I took pictures while he did a circle check. Finally I got strapped into my seat, headset on, engine started, then more checklist items. I was beginning to wonder if we would ever lift off! As we taxied down the runway there was a lot of incomprehensible chatter from the tower and other pilots: “Delta, Victor, 3, Bravo, Romeo this and Alfa, 4, Sierra, something, something”. I just counted backwards from ten slowly and silently until we were off the ground. I wasn’t really nervous just in awe that such a tiny bit of chattering metal could hold two people aloft. I commented after gaining altitude that it didn’t seem like we were going very fast and my Captain laughed and showed me the airspeed indicator. We were cruising at 110kph.

I thought of my dad, who had once invested a chunk of his hard earned money to take flight lessons, only long enough to take one solo flight. Being in the air, feeling how fragile that existence is, sparked a memory of watching him land at Buttonville Airport, near Toronto. I was probably about 8 or 9 years old, and can recall his beaming face as he shook hands with his instructor. He spread his wings again at 70, while parachuting, ticking another box. When I see a solitary cloud in the sky I think of him sitting on it, grinning at me.

As the Captain and I dropped altitude for our runway approach I felt surreal. In our three dimensional world we hovered as a falling leaf awaiting touchdown. I was aware of my two dimensional existence as we drove home yet the feeling of being transported to another world has never left me. Flight gives you a vantage point unlike any other. Seeing my world from another perspective boosted my understanding of my place in it.

Re: Grace

If I had the chance to father a daughter, I would ask that she be called Grace. The name has a quality of mercy about it, so surely the owner of such a name would grow to value kindness, compassion and charity towards her fellow humans. I’ve only known one person named Grace and she was rather aloof, so maybe names can’t set the tone for character, but I still like the idea.

I’ve known several people to whom the value of grace was their guiding principle. One fellow from my church years, who looked perpetually 90 years old, shared a pew with me during choir practise. He carried himself with assurance, not arrogance. He would always put others before himself. He helped create quality time amongst our fellowship, never once demanding it. He wore simple clothes that suggested he wished to blend into a crowd, yet we always knew he was in the room due to his warm laughter. His favourite hymn was ‘Amazing Grace’ which seemed appropriate. Check out this lovely version by Cellist Patrick Dexter.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Iyk2XrKIMcA

Shakespeare’s play, ‘The Merchant of Venice’ is one of my favourites from The Bard’s collection. While not without controversy, the characters do a wonderful job personifying several human values. After reading the play and performing a few lines in a classroom setting, my English teacher took our class to Stratford, Ontario to watch and learn. I remember being breathless throughout most of the scenes. We all felt somehow smarter after the performance, even a bit older. On the return trip, a small knot of us nerds gathered at the back of the bus to debate. We concluded that the opposite of Greed was not Charity, but Grace. (That’s why being greedy is so disgraceful) We didn’t do a High Five back then, but we knew we were cool.

Currently, in our bathroom there is a strip of wise sayings meant to start our day off on the right foot. One square offers a challenge: “Instead of Perfection, Seek Grace.” Sometimes it is easier to offer grace to another when we see they are in need of forgiveness or human comfort. To recognize in ourselves those same needs seems selfish. To attend to our own hurt, feels self serving. Etymologically, Grace comes from the latin word Gratis which suggests a gift freely given. Here is where we can begin: By recognizing that we are all members of a community, deserving of grace that is unreservedly given to all who assemble here.

A family tradition my wife and I followed when my three sons were growing up was saying grace at dinner. It wasn’t really a religious observance so much as an expression of gratitude. We would each offer a story of our day, highlighting who or what we were thankful for. Conversation often flowed gracefully to individual experiences. Our eldest described his frustration over a Lego model that didn’t turn out properly.“It looked different from the instruction picture,” he shrugged. “Just like people!” Amen.

Re: Teach

The last autumn that I entered a school to teach young children was in 2006. Sixteen years ago I rebooted the computers, put the chalk along the ledge, arranged the desks, tacked up some motivational posters, checked my lesson plans and put a new bulb in the overhead projector. I was teaching special needs students, elementary level, when I retired my career to pursue other interests. I am many things and I’m still a teacher.

As all serious parents do, I enjoyed quizzing my sons on how their school day went. I was curious to be at a certain distance from their experience even though in some cases I worked at the same school they attended. I would guard myself not to uncover their private feelings of being in so and so’s class, while knowing their teacher from another perspective. One teacher that I once worked with, a Mr.Novotny, had all three of my children in his grade five classroom. I felt this was worthy of celebration so I made a pair of bookends and asked my boys to pick their favourite book. I purchased them, along with a copy of Old Man and the Sea (the only book I’ve read multiple times). We four arranged to meet Mr.N. after my youngest had graduated from his class. Together we presented the gift. In his amazement he couldn’t stop saying he was flabbergasted. My sons still talk about this event. As a parent I was happy to use this teachable moment to build on what my lads had already been taught.

Parents are their children’s first teachers. Kids can learn negative and positive aspects of life from these dominant adults. I have always believed that it is a good thing that there is no manual for parenting. I like the idea that everyone in a family learns as they go along. That way everyone gets a chance to contribute in their own special way. Read several biographies and you’ll discover that adults have survived or thrived through all sorts of family drama, dysfunction or inspiration. My first memorable lessons outside of my family were provided by my baseball coach. He taught me that tasks are rarely DIY and not to fret about losing. Which we did do. A lot. In that same year I was influenced by my Akela in Boy Scouts. In one long memorable canoe trip I learned how to take things one step at a time.

All told, I have spent most of my life either learning or teaching. 18 years of formal education plus 31 years of working in schools is a significant amount of time being affiliated with a single institution. In my last year of teaching I made parents and colleagues laugh by telling them that I was finally being allowed to graduate from school. After retirement, folks would ask me, “Do you miss teaching?” I would answer that I missed the kids, but not the job.

These days I look for lessons from life, from art, from books. I’m still learning.