Posted on January 16, 2020 under Thursday Tidbits with one comment

Locked Out

 

Darlene’s Dilemma

Weather forecast: Hypothermia likely without protective clothing this evening through late Sunday night.

It has been another long, harrowing day at work. The teacher in this school in Northern Quebec was exhausted both physically and mentally. And why wouldn’t she be? Teaching in the north is not for the faint of heart. Double that if you happen to be an administrator. Most of these people would cite “educational leader” as a top of list job description. Crisis manager might be more appropriate.

The first week back to school or work for most Canadians after the Christmas holidays is a shock to the system. In schools, students and teachers are sleep deprived. It takes awhile to get back in the groove. In addition to all the other issues demanding her attention, the school vehicle fleet had Darlene at her wits end. The school had three trucks which were used by all the staff to go for groceries, water and to do runs to the airport. All of them had issues.

The trucks seemed as tired and cranky as everyone else after the break. Frequent breakdowns and failure to start in the cold weather were giving the staff fits. After work, Darlene parked the one working vehicle behind her apartment building to keep it sheltered from the wind.
Late in the evening after dinner and a hot shower, she decided to go out and start the truck just to keep the engine warm. She went out the rarely used back door (a fire exit). The truck was only a dozen or so feet from the door, so she didn’t bother throwing on a coat, hat or gloves.

The truck roared to life, which was one piece of good news, possibly the only one of the day. She made a dash for the back door and discovered to her chagrin that it was locked and couldn’t be opened from the outside. Her hair stiffened in the bitter arctic air as she pondered her dilemma. She knew that the front door of her apartment was also locked. At least the cab of the truck was warm.
She had a young boarder living with her, but he wasn’t home. It was 10:00 p.m. There was no cell service in this community so calling the maintenance crew for a spare key wasn’t an option. The temperature was hovering close to -50. She had to find the boarder, so she drove over to the boarder’s family home.

Just walking from the truck to the front door in these temperatures caused her wet head of hair to go off in all directions. She looked like an abandoned cat. Several raps on the door got the desired results. There was one small problem. In her consternation and being somewhat flustered by the whole affair, she had gone to the wrong house. Everybody in the community knew Darlene so one could only imagine what these folks were thinking when she showed up dressed in casual night wear.

She eventually made it to the boarder’s family home and found out his whereabouts. This required a drive across town. She eased out of the driveway and headed off in search of the house key. This required a trip down towards the water. The road down to the bay was very steep. A recent snowfall followed by frigid temperatures had left all the town streets resembling skating rinks. She inched down the hill. The truck had a mind of its own and started to slide out on control. She gingerly applied pressure to the brakes but this only made matters worse as the truck picked up speed as it careened towards the bay. A few snowbanks near the bottom of the hill saved her from an “excursion around the bay”.

She arrived home, cold and disheveled. This had been a hair-raising experience by any measure.

To calm down, she made herself a nice cup of hot chocolate and thought she would unwind with a movie: “Frozen”

 

 

Posted on January 13, 2020 under Monday Morning Musings with one comment

Hats off to balloons

 

“Would you like to ride in my beautiful balloon?
Would you like to ride in my beautiful balloon?
We could float among the stars together, you and I,
For we can fly, we can fly.”
Up, Up and Away – The 5th. Dimension

I was having a WhatsApp phone conversation with a buddy of mine on the weekend. For some reason unbeknownst to me, he reads my twice weekly column, something he’s been doing for years. I won’t embarrass him by outing him for this serious lack in judgment. We’ve been friends for well over forty years. Our conversations are easy and usually filled with insults. We have laughed together, lamented, commiserated and even shed a tear together. That’s what friendship is all about. Especially the insults which keep us humble.

I chuckled when he said that I could probably write an entire story on farts and farting. Sometimes I even surprise myself when I write 500 words about absolutely nothing. I guess I’m channeling my inner Jerry Seinfeld. I will not insult your intelligence or spoil your first coffee of the morning by discussing flatulence. Safe to say that it is impolite to fart on an elevator.

Now that I have your curiosity piqued, I want to have a serious discussion about balloons. Some of you probably popped a few on New Year’s Eve at midnight. Balloons are popular at birthdays. A few have been lucky and brave enough to fly in one. Up, up and away.
So, what’s with the picture at the top of the page? The geniuses amongst you will know exactly what that picture is all about.

When I was home for Christmas, I received a beautiful gift of a hat. Yes, that hat. It was made in a northern community decades ago. The colors are beautiful and the craftmanship simply amazing. The problem is that it is a few sizes too big. You may wonder how this is possible as some of you think that I have a swelled head as it is!

I know a bit about knitting. Forty years ago, I had my first of three knee surgeries. All that kneeling and praying on hard wooden floors saying the rosary finally took its toll! Truth be told, it was a hockey injury. During my convalescence, I learned how to knit. I went on a rampage and knitted about 10 lopi sweaters which were all the rage back then. When I screwed up a pattern (knit one, purl one), I would make a mad dash out to Marie MacKenzie’s home in Morristown and magically, she would clean up my mess. I knew enough that the knitted hat that was given to me couldn’t be fixed.

Rather than go to Google, I went and talked with the woman who made my parka. She told me to wash the hat in hot water and then blow up a balloon and sit the hat over the top in order to maintain its shape. My own solution is to go to the drugstore and get some Rogaine and see if I can grow some of my hair back.

So there. Just shy of 600 words about nothing.

Speaking of flatulence, I think I’ll go and listen to Mason Williams’ Classical Gas.

Have a great week.

P.S. If you’re ever bored, you can call me, but not by phone. Facetime, Messenger, WhatsApp and Skype all work reasonably well. The video occasionally works. The audio can be a bit spotty. I’m not lonely by the way, but I’m always happy to chat. If you think my writing is boring, you should hear me on the phone.

Posted on January 9, 2020 under Thursday Tidbits with one comment

Kangiqsujuaq – January 2020 (avatit avatit)

 

Photographs and memories, Christmas cards you gave to me,
All that I have are these, to remember you.
Photographs and Memories – Jim Croce

Just before Christmas, we had “picture day” at our school. Surely you remember this day when you were in elementary school? There’s a lot of energy in the school getting the class ready to walk down to the room being used by the photographer. A lot of energy. As a teacher, it is one of those days that you simply try and endure. But don’t feel badly for the teacher. What about the poor photographer? Is there a tougher job in the world than doing school photos especially with younger children?

When I was home for Christmas, I went looking through some old photo albums from my last teaching gig, forty years ago. I had a full head of hair back then and I was certainly thinner through the waistline. I still have almost all my school photos thanks to our amazing mother who kept all these things over the decades.

Pictures were also taken in high school and I carried a few of the wallet sized photos of classmates around with me for literally decades. They were all pictures of girls.

Of course, my most famous school related picture is my university grad photo from St.Francis Xavier. I clearly remember the day that I stood in the kitchen of our house on Hillcrest Street with my massive afro. I was trying on the gown that was to be worn for the sitting. My mother was not amused. “For God’s sake, go and get your haircut. You’re a damn fool if you get your picture taken looking like that.” I forged ahead with my afro intact and it has provided so many laughs over the years. Sorry mom!

A few days ago, I handed out the proofs to the students along with the class photo. I had to look twice. I still find it hard to believe that I am a classroom teacher at the age of 68 in Northern Quebec.

On my return trip to Kangiqsujuaq, I was carrying a photograph taken 50 years ago by a retired teacher who lives in Antigonish. The picture was of three young boys at the school where he was principal. The boys were from Kangiqsujuaq. He was curious to know of their whereabouts. I showed the picture to the Inuit staff on Monday. I was thrilled to hear that all three are alive and well and one of them still lives in Kangiqsujuaq. I plan to meet him on the weekend and show him the picture.

Photographs and memories.

When I was home for the holidays, I had the opportunity to chat with lots of friends and family about my first six weeks of teaching after a 40 -year hiatus. For privacy reasons, I obviously can’t say much in this space. I will share two things that happened this week because of their importance.

We had a staff day on Monday to start prepping for the days and weeks ahead. That’s a bit of a fallacy. While having a long- range plan is wise, the reality is that teaching in the north is a very fluid situation and planning a day at a time is a more prudent approach.
Our staff meetings typically begin with a prayer. We gathered in a large circle and held hands while an Inuk woman prayed. She spoke passionately in Inuktitut. I understood not a single word she said but I could feel the energy being passed from hand to hand. I found it quite moving.

You sports lovers are aware of the phrase “The TSN turning point”. In virtually every sporting event, there is a moment when something happens that changes the course of the game. I had my own “TSN turning point” on Tuesday. The first week back at school after the holidays is tough on everyone. Everyone is tired and a bit out of sync. Tuesday was the first day with my new teacher’s aide. She is a young, bright, personable Inuk woman. I can’t give you details but she is going to be my savior!

Have a great weekend.

P.S. Passings. I was saddened to learn of the death of a good friend, Beth Cooper. I met her several years ago when she was living in the same apartment complex as my mom. She was very bright and loved life. She was a sports fanatic and she could tell you what was going on in just about any sport. We were great friends. I also heard about the death of a former staff person at the nursing home where I worked last year. She died far too young of cancer. I didn’t know her but from all accounts she was a tremendous care worker.

Get out there and live life to the fullest while you’re able.