Semi-Sterility

Dear Friends,

As soon as autumn rolled in, my students and I went to Chudleigh’s apple farm, in Milton. Although we didn’t pick apples, we had an amazing time visiting the animals, running through the haystacks, and wiggling our way down the tallest slide. We even swung from a rope, à la Tarzan and Jane!

The bright sun glowed amongst the shapely clouds, not the dark, ugly kinds that hang over Ontario teachers’ head at the moment, but the sparkling white kinds that create a breathtaking contrast against the pure, azure sky. 

Students were walking in pairs, carefully listening to the guide, cheerful and excited, free of constraint. I couldn’t help but think of Jean-Jacques Rousseau who believed children develop and learn better by interacting with the physical world.

The only disappointing aspect of our trip was the semisterile orchard. There were so few apples on the trees and on the ground, that while we were riding in the tractor, a couple of my students started playing “I spy an apple” game!

“Look Madame, two apples, four apples, five apples!” They yelled in my ear, astonished.

If you live in Ontario, you know that last year’s unexpectedly mild March tricked the buds to blossom. Then, the few frosty days in April stole apples’ dream of coming to life.

Although the realities of global warming and the sad story of the apples that didn’t make it, lingered in my mind for a while, on our way back to school, I felt an immense sense of peace and satisfaction. With the sun, shining on me through the front windows of the bus, and the children’s chirping filling the space behind me, I became one with the universe. As a pleasant lassitude took over me, I almost fell prey to the hands of a sweet siesta, just like a happy kitten, by the fireplace.

To keep myself awake, not so much for children’s sake, but to save face in front of parent-volunteers accompanying us, I forced my brain to conjure up some thoughts and ideas. That’s when I recognized the collaboration between Mother Nature and Ontario’s Premier - no more apples for teachers!  Accepted and filed!   

What have you accepted and filed today?

Casino

Dear Friends,

On the weekend, while I was obsessing over the healthiest menu for my children and grandchildren, maneuvering my heavy buggy with one hand, choreographing my umbrella in the air with the other, my eyes caught the headline of a local publication, TORONTO CASINO COULD GENERATE JOBS. 
I totally agree. Aside from the obvious manpower necessary to build and run such an establishment, income opportunities are endless. As a devastated mother of a gambler, let me count the job openings: more loan sharks, more social workers, yogis and meditators to help gamblers and their families cope with the ravages of such addiction, more marriage counsellors to patch things up between spouses, more psychiatrists to tell gamblers, their addiction is not really their parents’ fault.

All these newly hired people need furnished offices, computers, phones, stationary, ink, coffee, transportation and lunch.

Wow! Imagine, one poor addict generates so much income for others, from the construction site of the casino to the offices of CAMH to the deli.

How dare we look down on them? In the old country they call them society’s parasites!

As if the “stimulating” commercials on TV were not enough, now the propaganda for gambling has become an economic factor in print. "A once in a generation opportunity," Godfrey, the chairman of the Ontario Lottery and Gaming Corporation, calls it! 
Paying off loan sharks and going to support group therapy has certainly been a once in a lifetime experience for me! What’s a bleeding heart of another mother, father, sibling, spouse or offspring, in comparison to the prosperity of a city?

I know, I know, just because some cannot keep it under control, others shouldn’t be deprived of thrills of gambling, or for that matter, euphoria of drinking. However, cigarettes have been off the air and shelves, for a while now. Maybe the government hasn’t realized yet that other addictions cost the taxpayers, as well. Lately, the government has developed funny ways of making or saving money. First, it makes money off of its addicts, then rehabilitates them for free. First, it withholds funds from services that keep kids off the street then, a few years later, prosecutes or defends them in court; rooms and boards them in jail. 
Can’t we skip the drama in-between saving and reallocating and invest in the moment?

I say, we live in cruelly funny times - accepted and filed.

What have you accepted and filed, today?

Between the Rock and the Scissors

Dear Friends,

In the fall and in the spring, on my way to and from work, I pass by a beautiful green field that is inundated by youngsters, dressed in their school’s colours, engaged in different physical activities. In the past few days, the field has been empty. Although there are a few dogs chasing each other’s tail, and a few elderly comparing notes, the field looks sad, abandoned, as if life has been drawn from it. If you are a working teacher in Ontario, you know it’s not the rain that’s keeping the youngsters away, but politics.

Yes, we certainly are caught between the rock and the hard place. On one hand, we want the public to know it’s not the question of “I want more,” but our democratic rights. On the other hand, we don’t want to pay the price, which is withdrawing our voluntary services.

I don’t exactly know what’s in this new bill, but from what I’ve gathered so far, from those who have read it, I believe it’s worth making noise over it.

I’m close to retirement. The new bill does not “chop” my existence; it only aggravates me because it’s unfair.

Disappointing our students is very hard for us. But, sometimes, the surgeon has to amputate a leg to save the patient’s life.

These are ugly times! There is no room for diffidence. For us, it’s an “all or nothing time.” I understand your dedication and professionalism. I feel your pain and sense of loss. We put children first, not the government. We know it, and they know it, but I don’t think the public knows it.

Once upon a time, there was a system that ran smoothly, more or less. First, one bad wolf separated the principals and the vice-principals from their teachers by taking them out of the union. Next, another bad wolf dug a ditch between the parents and the teachers by questioning teachers’ competence and professionalism. And now, lack of direction and leadership from our union is creating a rift among teachers. If this isn’t “divide and conquer,” I don’t know what is! And conquer they will, if we let them.

The institution that once stood on solid pillars is now barely holding up. One parent can override a whole school decision; one student can alter the entry and exit points of 800 people, and one shortsighted politician, who didn’t have the budget for his all-day kindergarten promise to constituents, can fiddle with democracy.

The policy makers, always looking for a vote, have found the magic word - students.

Well, without teachers there are no students - just children.

In order to become students, successful students, children need teachers; respected, enthusiastic and well-treated teachers.

Since we have no directives, and I really have to wonder why, we are doing our best to compromise. However, compromising at the time of zero tolerance is compromising the integrity and the future of our profession. Isn’t it time for everyone to know, how much we put in?  

In all fairness, we have more important things to do than to spend our lunch hour arguing or making lists of services to drop. I thought we paid somebody to do all that for us. If you ask my suspicious mind, this in itself is a ploy, too.

Honestly, how can we determine which students should or should not be disappointed? Or, which teacher’s wishes or voluntary activity take precedence? Or which event is worthy of our 40-minute uninterrupted lunch hour? 

 Look around; with the right amount of noise, anything is possible, revocable, or removable, good and bad.

We still have the right to make noise. Let’s take advantage of it!

 In this particular case, I'm an extremist - accepted and filed!

P.S. If you want my honest opinion, it all started with those damned vests!

Mirror, Mirror on the Door...

Dear Friends,

This morning, I stood in front of my wall-to-wall mirrored closet doors (a cruel feature in an old woman’s bedroom) and practiced some self-loathing.

If you are young, living a healthy lifestyle, blessed with a flawless skin and a pleasing figure - good for you! I’m not, don’t and am not, again! Thus, I decided to put into practice Martha Beck’s (my new obsession) statements that self-acceptance frees me, but self-rejection will make me freeze!

Step 1: recognize the truth that bothers me – done!

Step 2: recognize my true feelings about the truth that’s bothering me –done!

I stood there, in front of my head-to-toe reflection, waiting for the stress-relieving self-acceptance to kick in – nothing!

I’m getting old – true! I hate it – true! Do I feel better by staring at gravity looking right back at me? No! Self-rejection? Totally!

Perhaps I don’t love or hate myself enough to move to the next level – “quick correction” and “rapid progress!”

Perhaps, accepting some acceptances is easier than others. For example, I have accepted that science and technology have not advanced as much as the inventors want us to believe. Otherwise, someone would have already patented a self-improvement device or a rejuvenating regime that didn’t involve effort, pain, or money.

I also have accepted that with my poor sense of direction, it will take me a while (a long while) to get from knowing the truth to accepting the truth.

Accepted and filed!

What have you accepted and filed, today?

The District Review

Dear Friends,

This weekend, between holding hot cups of ginger and honey potion in one hand, covering my mouth with the other (yes I do cover my mouth when I cough, even when I’m alone), I managed to line up my long-range plans for the new school year and my curriculum handout for parents. As I filled student-timetable, I couldn’t help but think about our school’s upcoming “review.” I must admit, I felt butterflies dancing in my stomach. Not the kind that harbour excitement, but the kind that breed anxiety. Self-doubt made me hope for a more potent bug than the February blahs - an exotic flu, perhaps?

I remember, when I was in school in Tehran, every Saturday, (the beginning of the week in Iran) our principal inspected our nails. We stood by our desks, arms stretched out, palms down, our clean white handkerchief and folding plastic drinking cup wobbling on top of our hands, “Not white enough!” The principal reproached poor souls whose mother had run out of bleach. 
Every month in boarding school, our head-mistress inspected under our bed, and inside our closet. “Shirts to the right, shoes to the left!” She rebuked the absentminded girls. 
When I got married and had my own home, every time my mother visited, she inspected the fridge, “Too much dairy, not enough greens.” She wanted our grocery lists to match. My mother-in-law never visited empty-handed. She always had a mouthful of suggestions.

Although there is concrete evidence that I'm competent, creative and caring, inspection continues to make me feel like a small person, with big insecurities.  

I hope on that auspicious day, if my flu doesn't fly in on time, my eighteen unsuspecting little minds and bodies, not always as predictable as the content of my fridge or as organized as my closet, decide to be on my side.

Until then, I acknowledge and accept that review (aka evaluation, examination, inspection, appraisal and assessment) of my live performance does bring out the impostor syndrome in me!

I also admit, so many others being in the same shoes, doesn't really slow down the churning in the pit of my stomach. 

What have you accepted and filed today?

Welcome Back

Dear Friends,

According to Martha Beck, a renowned life coach,  “Self-acceptance frees you!”

Silly Lili! I thought Gratitude was the passcode to Nirvana!

I decided to take the concept of self-acceptance a step further, by dropping the “self." In general, acceptance, frees you! 

Martha Beck suggests using the truth, the warty  truth, nothing but the ugly truth, to correct and ameliorate ourselves. 
I, on the other hand, just want to quit stressing, obsessing and feeling guilty! My truth doesn't need to complicate my life any further. Improvement and happiness do not need to apply. 

Chiropractor adjusted the hip that pushed the filling cabinet-$$$ 

Masseuse fixed (almost) the right arm that washed twenty desks, nine lockers and twenty chairs-$$$

Manicurist restored three broken nails-$$ 
Ophthalmologist checked eyes for effective reading and writing-$$$  

Two eight-pound "remember your ceps” dumbbells on my desk-$$ 

A variety of aromatic herbal "2:30 blahs" teas-$$

A pair of devastatingly cute loafers to keep my feet happy, running up and down the stairs-$$$

Looking forward to winter-break trip to Cuba-$$$$ (I don’t do double occupancy!)

Thank God my hairdresser doesn’t work on Labour Day weekend, saved-$$!

September is painfully expensive for me – Accepted and filed!

What would you like to accept and file today?