Two more posts... observations from around this home of mine

First, a quick observational post that means little without context, but I liked even without the context...

 

It was progress, the kind of progress explained in rubble and displaced migrants and families with nowhere to go... progress that looked like a wasteland of busted concrete and the ghosts of lives gone by.

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Now, a more involved observation...

I've always loved being a voyeur. Not in the trench-coated, lurking old man sense, but I've always thought about and enjoyed being a secret part of other moments, other lives... someone in the background of a photo who is surreptitiously sneaking a grin to add color to an event. I'm at the pub before dinner has begun, listening to a somewhat stereotypical pre-shift pep talk being given to the staff before a busy Friday night. The brewpub I'm in definitely caters to western preferences... bar stools at the bar set before multiple big screens with any number of sports showing, music just a bit too loud to allow for annonymity, good food and drink selection, and, of course, happy hour. The music has been muted to allow for the speech. Even though we're in a western-style establishment, parts of China peek through from under the façade. The speech from the supervisor is peppered with Chinglish clichés like, "Be happy every day" and other supportive cheer about making sure everyone is on-point, repeating the idea that all the clients who come in should feel "sexy". This is encouraged by telling staffers to make flirtatious eye contact. Social skills 101. Other grand, lofty slogans and goals are thrown around. Classic China. If you don't believe me, spend time walking around a busy restaurant area, but do so before the dinner rush starts... you'll see shouted slogans, calisthenics, dance lines, fireworks, propaganda repetition... just depends on the day. Back home, this would be eye-rolling nonsense, but here, it's ingrained in the business culture. I'm not entirely sure where it comes from. Possibly the military training done in schools, the Cultural Revolution propagandizing. It's hard to say. I also wonder about who is writing the speech about happiness and sexiness. Is the cute shift supervisor the one behind spouting the party line? Or is she simply the deliverer of the words that come from the big boss, who sits aloof across the bar in a trendy suit and personally tailored leather shoes?

As the speech wraps and the (expected) applause dies down, the volume on the stereo is back to full and everyone gets busy. I get back to my novel and my burger, wondering when things that used to seem so strange began to look so normal.

T

The distance... an entry from a few weeks ago

This is an entry I wrote a few weeks ago following the passing of my aunt, but never got around to posting...

***

For those who live abroad, being away has a dark side that we rarely talk about... that we try to avoid acknowledging. It's the type of reality that keeps us from our family and friends that we love, but from whom we are so far removed. We have an endless number of reasons for our departure. Some leave to cure a broken heart, some seek adventure, while still others are being practical and pursuing economic ends. Still others are left with few options and walk across the tarmac to somewhere new because few options remain in the place they used to call home. Often, it's a combination of these factors. I've quoted this before (and probably will until my end of days), but it's something I believe about our travels... "For the longest way 'round is the shortest way home." My own plans for one year of recovery and rediscovery have turned into 6 years and a potential career abroad, at least for the forseeable future. This distance, though... sometimes it cuts deep.

My aunt passed away this morning. My uncle's wife. We weren't close, nor had we ever really been. I spent quite a few holiday get-togethers with her and my uncle and my cousins at big family dinners. We were friend, but I knew her only in a superficial way. That's probably the case for many nieces/nephews/aunts/uncles. I remember her laugh and a few other details, but much of what I'd known has faded from years being out of touch. But, I remember her laugh. I liked it. It was comforting.

We were strangers, though, for no reason but a lack of proximity and a generally broken relationship between my father and his older brother. It was also just a reality of different lives, different towns, different priorities. It has been a few years since I saw her last. The most recent memory, I remember noticing how much her and my uncle had changed. Her silvered hair looked good on her, but for some reason it still surprised me. I'm sure I'd noticed before, but in my mind's eye, she remained a youngish 40-something. She'd aged, but seemed to have aged well. My uncle was different too in my recent experiences. He had softened, and seemed to have an easy smile and a ready joke. Maybe being a grandfather had brought this out in him... or maybe my own memories are skewed. He was curious about my life in a way I'd never experienced with him. They both were. 

I have mixed memories of my uncle. When I was a child, I recall being equal parts intrigued by him and scared of him. He was so much like my dad in many ways, but was still different. Sadly, it's the more negative memories that define my early recollections, but my later memories as an adult (and, to a certain extent, when I re-met him) were much more positive. I remember a few occasions asking my mom why he and my dad never talked and always seemed to be walking a razor wire of intensity when they were together. She'd explained a bit of the backstory, but I remember little of it other than the long-standing reality of distance between them. This is a tough bit to swallow when you're young and idealistic, thinking you've got it figured out. I couldn't understand why they couldn't just forget about it and be buddies. Now that I'm in my 30s, I understand a bit more. Grievances are harder to shake, harder to forgive, maybe impossible to forget. History marks us all, and the scars sometimes become all we can see.

I got the message this evening. My fiancée is getting a massage with a friend and I was sitting in a nearby pub, enjoying a stout while reading my book. It was grey outside. Cold. Windy. Vancouver in January. Checking my email, I see the note from my cousin's wife, N...

"Hey T, not sure what kind of hours you keep on the other side of the big ball... just thought I would let you know that [your aunt] passed away peacefully in the night. Tragic and calming all at the same time. The suffering is finally over. Take care."

The guilty part of me feels like the message is undeserved and too kind. I haven't made the slightest effort to contact them in a meaningful way since she got sick. I kept think... "I'll make the effort when I'm home in the summer." So selfish, this thought.

Why are the young so confident in the belief that there will be more time? And even as I age, why have I not become any wiser to this reality?

Aunt J, you will be missed.

Finding enough time

Over the past five years, I've always found it hard to corner away enough time to see everyone and do everything I want while back in Canada during holidays. Every day there's one more person to see and one more thing to add to my ongoing schedule of coffees, brunches, cocktails, and dinners. I feel endlessly lucky... I've found friends who continuously keep in touch and seek out an hour or two every time I'm back in Canada to hang out and catch up. And even more luckily, over the years the time apart has not driven a wedge between us... when we meet up, it seems like little time has passed, except in the case where those friends have had kids and they've jumped up 6 inches since the last visit).

I also consider myself lucky that I don't have anyone who begrudges my decisions to be away. If they did exist, they've likely fallen from my periphery. I know my parents worry, and I know my siblings and some of my friends would like a little more time, but all the people who fill my schedule back in Canada know that this overseas life has helped bring me to a point of contentment and strength that I'd lost before I decided to hop on a plane with little notice to start a new life on the other side of the Pacific.

I guess the point of me writing this is just to say thanks... thanks to those people who continue to hound me for brunch dates and beer meetings, who are understanding when I don't quite have enough time to meet up or when I have to cut a date short, who always find time to listen to my long-winded, never-brief stories, and who have kept in touch over the years and have not allowed this time and distance to prevent us from continuing on as friends. Knowing all of this is what makes this life overseas worthwhile.

I joked around with my good buddy SP today, saying I am dirt poor but I have a full passport, the love of an amazing woman, and a smile on my face... this is how I measure success these days. See you all in six months.

T

One of the few times you'll hear me complaining about air

One of my most vivid memories from the past five years is that of returning to Vancouver Island after my first year in China. I'd just spent ten days in Yunnan province in southern China, enjoying the mountains and the China-famous Tiger Leaping Gorge.

As my plane touched down, I remember the feeling I had in my gut of coming home after my longest period outside of Canada, a sick mixture of anxiety and excitement bordering on elation. I had a big stupid grin on my face. Home.

The best part hadn't even happened yet. As we pulled up to the terminal and the doors opened, and after filing down the aisle single-file and stepping onto the tarmac, I took a deep breath and actually tasted the fresh west coast air. I've told this story before, but that air was delicious... drinkable... sweet. For the first time in my life, I appreciated the air I was breathing in Canada.

Don't misunderstand, though. I never noticed the more smoggy air in Dalian. There were a couple of really hazy days, but even teaching outside I never ever felt affected by it. That's mainly because the pollution in Dalian was limited, particularly due to the location of our schools (out by the ocean). It was windy there, so it often blew all the smog and rubbish away.

Now, in year five, in Shanghai, I am finally noticing the bad air. And really, it's only recently... for the first 3.5 months since my arrival, it was never on the radar. Sure, I saw AQI ratings that weren't positive, but I was still running outdoors and never got too riled up.

Until today. Until this:


The AQI readings for Shanghai have officially reading "Beyond Index" at a reading of more than 500 all day. "PM 2.5" readings refer to particulate matter with a size of 2.5 microns, which can get into your lungs. They can't get into your blood stream unless they're MUCH smaller, but even still, it's not good. Right now, the app on my iPad reads that the PM2.5 level is 602. I can't wait to get to my buddy D's house where his air purifiers are cranked.

You can't see more than a kilometre down the road, and eyes/lungs are burning amongst kids and staff alike. Again, don't panic... it's not the end of days. But it's kinda like filling a tent full of cigarette smoke. And living there. A tent filled with nearly 30 million people. And I have to wait until June to come back to Canada.

If anyone has a direct line to the Philippines, tell them to order me clear skies... I'll be arriving there soon for Christmas holidays and I want my lungs back.

T

Sometimes teaching has benefits that can't be measured...

This post will probably seem self-indulgent. However, I'm sharing because it's a proud moment for me. Over the past six or seven years since becoming a certified high school teacher, I've often rethought my decision. I have often asked myself whether or not I was meant for this profession or if I should continue to pursue teaching as a career. I've had many a flighty thought about other occupations, but the draw of amazing holidays and reliable employment and the ability to get paid to travel have all trumped these uncertainties. I've enjoyed my time with the students, but these same students are also responsible for some of the most difficult times in my life, whether this means being threatened with knives or receiving news that one of my English 11 students had died. Although the holidays, pay, and work environment generally justify the job, it's not particularly often that we get a sincere pat on the back.

I'm reblogging the following story from a mother of one of my students. She sent this story to our Head of School and Principal, who passed it on to our staff. I spent some time talking to this mother about 6 weeks ago after her son had an issue with an incomplete assignment. I didn't think I did anything particularly special, but it seemed to have made an impact. This is the part of teaching that makes me want to continue in the profession. Apologies if it seems a bit too over-the-top. And thanks for letting me indulge.

T

A Mommy Moment
October 12, 2013

In the past seven years, I’ve trudged through some slimy, murky waters trying to keep my child from drowning.  When Matthew was diagnosed with Asperger’s Syndrome in the second grade, I really had no idea how far my heart and mind could be stretched and challenged. To me, ASD is not a disorder or disability but more an identification of someone with an amazing potential,  quirky sense of humor and fascinating mind. I wasn’t prepared for others who wouldn’t see it that way, who just don’t “get it”. There is nothing more terrifying than standing on the shoreline, watching your child going under, gasping for air and feeling like you are absolutely helpless to come to their rescue.  I spent a few years swimming alongside, trying to throw my child a lifeline. Elementary teachers don’t think they should have to teach a child how to swim. There just isn’t any mention of this in the Common Core curriculum and it certainly won’t earn any points on the high stakes testing.  Middle school teachers have too many students to notice if someone is drowning. That was the prevailing sentiment, at least. When your child looks at you through tear soaked lashes and tells you that he would die without you because there would be no one who could help him, you know it’s up to you. No one is going to be the hero you are hoping for. Our public schools should have warning signs that there are no lifeguards on duty. Swim at your own risk.

Eventually I decided to charter a little schooner and sail away to a peaceful remote island.  An island without bullies, without teachers who would humiliate him. A place where he wouldn’t have to sob all the way home after school every day.  I made the decision to resign my own teaching position and we shored up like castaways in Clermont doing virtual school.  It was a sacrifice that I don’t regret. 
When David first asked if I would consider traversing the Pacific Ocean to Shanghai, I thought he was out of his mind, end of conversation.  The storm waves had finally settled down and we were enjoying beautiful sunsets with swaying palm trees and Jimmy Buffet music. Why rock the boat? Over time, we began to investigate and weigh out what an incredible opportunity this could be for our family.  We finally concluded that the worst case scenario would be that we would continue to virtual school from Shanghai.  Totally feasible, not the end of the world, we can do this. I crossed my fingers that our little Shirley schooner could weather monsoons.

I had no delusions that private international schools were going to be the nautical utopia that I’d resigned myself just didn’t exist.  Private schools have no obligation whatsoever to special needs students.  Been there, done that, have the scars to prove it. I steeled myself for another round of rejection, misconceptions and frustration.  Four out of six potential schools in Shanghai took one look at a student with an IEP and told us not to bother applying.  My expectations were way below 20,000 Leagues.  Due to pregnancy complications, I was stuck horizontal in my bed making imaginary Rorschach pictures in the knocked down ceiling when the school visits were done.  I tried to allow myself a little cautious optimism when Matthew Skyped to say that he had found a school where he felt welcome and safe.  Megan liked the same school, miracle of miracles! Shanghai Community International School (SCIS) had won their vote but I was guarded. The Olympic swimming pool was nice, but were they really only interested in students who were already proficient swimmers?
Matthew was adamant that he wanted to be independent, and even more emphatic that he wanted to be treated just like everyone else. He was ready to dive in and swim on his own. I’ve never been more proud and more panic-stricken. This Mommy would be hanging out on the pier with a pair of binoculars.  I sent my kids off to school in a foreign country and went a little mad trying to kill time until they returned.  Every day felt like forever for weeks.  Matthew struggled to adjust, had to deal with upset stomach and difficulty sleeping. The homework and organization were the biggest hurdles, not unexpected. We had some sleepless nights, working through anxiety and projects until the wee hours. I was determined to let him work it out with his teachers but wondered when the tide would start to carry him out as it had so often in the past. So far he was keeping his head above the surface but I wasn’t sure how long he could tread water.

Three weeks into school the pivotal moment struck.  Matthew came home and reported that he’d had an issue in class when asked to do an oral report.  Deep, cleansing breath.  Memories of a past horrific experience with an oral report flooded my mind.  But I donned my neutral Mommy face and prompted him to continue with the story.  It was his turn but he shook his head when the teacher asked if he was ready.  Oh, Lord.  The 65% of my body that’s water froze instantly and my left eye began to twitch but I smiled and asked him what the response was.  The teacher tactfully went on to the next person and said that he’d like to talk to Matthew after class.  Ok, I thawed a teeny bit, but let’s get to the next phase, still much potential for a typhoon.  I never realized until this moment that I had so completely given up on the possibility of finding empathy and compassion in my son’s teachers.  What happened next shocked me.  The teacher got Matthew to talk to him and explain how he was feeling.  He suggested that an after school one-on-one oral report might be in order and stressed to him how important it is for Matthew to talk to him when he’s feeling overwhelmed.  A little saltwater leaks from my eyes just thinking about how I felt at that moment.  Did this teacher  just throw Matthew a life preserver??  Is he actually  going to get in the water with this child?? This response is what I’ve been begging of his teachers for so long.  So simple and yet so elusive… until now. What makes this even more impressive is that the teacher didn’t know Matthew was ASD.  He was being sensitive to who he is as a person and treats all of his students with this level of respect.  Even more incredible is that the entire staff seems to be infected with this pervasive culture of accommodation and reckless desire to see their students succeed. If they can’t swim, they teach them. If they can swim, they teach them whatever it is that they need.  How completely and utterly astounding!

It’s been two months now and the child who used to be terrified at school is trudging through the desert in Inner Mongolia with teachers that he trusts enough to immerse himself in some of his greatest fears.  Yesterday he texted us that he rode a makeshift sled down a sand dune and ate dinner while viewing Mongolian entertainment (?)Tonight he is camping in a yurt with camels and other equally odiferous animals nearby. If you know my child or anyone with ASD, you will understand how completely extraordinary this is. Matthew is not just treading water. He is doing some serious deep sea diving.

Being a Disney family has brought us many special moments, but boarding the Shanghai boat has really ramped up our magic. I never would’ve imagined I’d find my dream school 12,000 miles on the other side of the world. SCIS is a godsend for our family. My teacher faith has been restored and more importantly, Matthew has finally gotten the chance to show what he’s really been capable of all along with just a little understanding from some real life heroes.  I think I’m having a Disney magic Mommy moment.

From: http://shirleyshanghai.wordpress.com/2013/10/12/a-mommy-moment/

Thoughts, continents apart

It's sad to think that tragedy is what makes us reflect on health, safety, and happiness. However, it's a simple reality. A good friend of mine lives and works in Kenya as a teacher, and actually frequents the mall in which the killings are happening. Luckily, he was nowhere nearby over the weekend. Sadly, though, one of his best students was a victim of the gunmen. Losing a student is heart-breaking business.

Spend a minute giving thanks for all that you have. CS, thoughts are with you buddy.

T

Sorting out life's philosophies (via coaching). (And not really about China at all).

One of things ruling my mind more than anything lately is thoughts about coaching, sport, and what it means to be a leader in this regard. It's the first time in about six years that I've thought about it from a coaching standpoint, as I haven't been a bench boss since my teaching days in Canada. It's amazing how quickly the years zip by (especially considering this is year five being an ocean away from home).

I coach JV (grades 9-11) volleyball. I do not coach a finesse team. They're not a team that people look at and say, "Wow, they look polished. They look strong. We're in trouble." That's not us.

We're a team that hustles. We're a team that gets that unlikely shanked pass back into play off a serve and does their damnedest to get it back over the net. There are a couple of players that react like lightning, bodies be damned. This makes me really happy. Don't get me wrong... I don't want broken ankles. Nope... I just want to see a bit of heart and a bit of skin left behind on that court after a game.

Over the past week or two, though, I've become frustrated in practice. Silly mistakes, players ignoring skills and practice after weeks of repetition, laziness. Maybe I've just been out of coaching for a while and this is totally normal. Or maybe I'm heaping too many expectations on this group of 15 year old dudes. Particularly the setters. But I hate to see a ball drop when it's only a step away. I hate to see apathy. There's enough apathy out there... I want them to care about every point. It's in their control and right in front of them, and is as simple as a decision to say, "Yes. That's mine." Or, "I can get there." In life, this isn't always the case and it isn't always that simple. But in this game... it can happen.

The thing I've come to realize is that I don't really care about winning all that much (even though many of you who've seen me would disagree, particularly if we've played Settlers or Scrabble). I do, however, expect my team to compete. I expect them to show up and focus and play with their hearts and minds in the game. I expect them to rally from a series of bad points, and to occasionally make plays that look like volleyball. To take control of this little moment to get hands on a ball that others gave up on seconds before. The one relatively consistent remark I've heard from other coaches is that we're the kind of team they like to play... one that doesn't give away free points and doesn't give up on a play when it seems unlikely. I feel proud of this, and I'm holding on tight. This is the team I want to be. And this is how I want to win when wins come.

I'm definitely green and have lots to learn about this role, but one of the benefits of my new adventure down here in SH is that I'm looking down the line, long-term. It may be the first time in the last ten years that I can look to next year and likely the year after and say, "Yes. I am here. And I'll be here." And it makes me smile.

T

A long time since pen to paper

My internet radio is lulling me into quiet contemplation as I stare out from behind my desk in my classroom. I'm free from kids for the moment, but I know my Grade 9 Advisory will be invading these walls in a brief seventy minutes. Psychology texts cover my desk and world maps stare at me from three walls. Although the radio plays pleasantly in my ears, I can also hear chants and marching orders out the window, coming from the nearby Chinese school. Local schools often begin the year with mandatory military "training", where they learn to chant and high-step and stand with straight backs to show their obedience and loyalty to the state.The hallways in my own school, though, are quiet. The classrooms are full.

The past few months have been full of transitions, and it's hard to believe that I've already been back to work for more than two weeks.

(**Side note: As a teacher, I hope you'll never hear me complaining about the length of my holidays. If I do, I hereby will allow one stiff slap upside the head for such nonsense. I've got a pretty sweet life.)

These transitions could seem ground-breaking when looking through an outsider's eyes... new job, new home, new colleagues, new domestic situation, new classes, new students, and a whole new life. I'm now living in a new city, teaching at a new school, and have started a new life with my partner and friend, M. There has been so much change, and I'm loving every minute of it.

I'm mainly writing this to reconnect a bit with some people I've lost touch with, and since I just received an email from one of my oldest, best friends this morning from her vacation spot, I thought I'd start here.

In her message, J wrote, "I am wondering how you are, and where your head is at, and what makes you happy and causes you worries lately. What are you reading and have you been writing? It has been too long since we had a good long talk."

Too true, my friend. Too true. In that spirit, I'll leave just a simple response:

At this moment in time, I am full of happiness and reasons to thank the cosmos, and I can only hope for more to come. I'll try to find time to fulfill the rest of J's inquiries soon. Until then...

T

圣诞节快乐 and 新年快乐! Merry Christmas and Happy New Year

I hope no one reading this is convinced that I have suddenly acquired some new-fangled Chinese skills. This would not be the case. However, since I'm writing from the future and since 2013 is already here, who knows what will come of the new year.

I won't dwell or reminisce too much about 2012, other than to say I'm a wee bit glad it's over. It was one of the most... full... years I've probably ever had. I'm tired, but the time has flown. Teachers at our school usually feel like the first semester is never ending with no Christmas/New Year holidays and multiple 6-day work weeks between October and January. However, this year the sand has slipped through the glass at a ridiculous rate. It's January 1st. In 3 weeks I'll be on a plane south. And next year will move me out of the PRC's northeast down to the sprawl of Shanghai.

Yup, I'll be on the road again this summer, but China seems to have kept it's grip. MM (my endlessly delightful lady friend) and I have both acquired jobs at an IB school in Shanghai for the 2013-2014 school year, and we'll be packing up for the move south in coming months. Although I had my heart set on SE Asia, Shanghai will be an excellent stepping stone and will hopefully provide me/us with more experience with which to pursue jobs elsewhere in the world. And I'll be able to get my fill of fake China shoes and hockey jerseys. If anyone is interested, start putting in your orders now!

For the timebeing, I need to stop procrastinating and begin facing the endless pile of papers in front of me. Only 3 more classes remain in the semester and I need to get a move on.

To all the fam and friends around the world, much love from China and I"m hoping that 2013 brings ya'll a bucket of happiness, a wagon of good health, and a dump truck full of prosperity. Make sure you're in Western Canada in July. And don't hesitate to book a flight so you can come and visit. All the best...

T

With great power comes great responsibility (I'm not the one with great power)

Participating in the democratic process through the media is a challenging thing. As an audience member wanting to join in, one has little power to choose what is published and what isn't, what voices are brought to the forefront of a discussion and which are ignored. And even when someone chooses to present an alternative perspective, the writers at the newspaper have the ability to edit, omit, and spin whatever words come their way. This is the nature of the beast, and I put my hand in its mouth.

I didn't actually get bit. In reality, I got what I wanted: publication. Of course, leaving my words in the hands of someone else allows room for  comment, editing, and a careful portrayal of the words which were sent out. This I knew and expected. And it's what I received. Regardless, for those people who took the time to read my complete response, thank you. I feel strongly that the articles are not representative of my school reality. I do not work for a perfect system, but I've seen a great deal of improvement this year and more hope is on the horizon. Our students don't deserve the bad press, nor do our teachers.

After my first email (with the letter seen previously), the writer at the Sun responded with a link to further stories which are also very critical of the company I work for. I sent a follow up email the same day  which was a little bit more strongly worded. Of course, she used all of this email and less than half of my original letter. However, I don't regret sending it. It makes some points that otherwise would not have been shared.

The link to that article is at the bottom of this post, and my most recent letter to the aforementioned Education columnist is below. I edited it quite a bit from the letter I'd planned earlier in the day. Hopefully I won't add any more flammable fodder to an unreasonably well-stoked fire. Thanks again for all the support.

My final correspondence to the Sun:

Thank you for printing part of my correspondence on your blog. It's unfortunate that you didn't point anyone toward the positive comments from 10 or more current or former ML teachers, two former students, and more than one non-ML teacher which can be found in response to a number of your articles; it was to these comments I referred to in my letter, not simply the few emails you received directly. However, you printed important parts of my letter and email, which I appreciate. It's good to see that a little balance found its way into the column, even if these alternate perspectives were perhaps portrayed negatively.

I hope that the graduates from our program who work hard to legitimately earn their Dogwood Diplomas aren't hurt by your articles. The same goes for the dedicated teachers who invest their time in the students of our school. I am sure that wasn't your intention; however, it's a potential reality because of the way you've chosen to develop your articles.

Thanks again for your time.

The article can be found HERE.

And for those who are still reading, consider sending a letter yourself one day. Putting pen to paper is still a powerful expression of the democratic process. Even if you can't tether spoken words to your tongue to pull back in times of embarrassment, saying it is better than silence. 

T

My letter to the Vancouver Sun

As promised yesterday, below is my letter to the Vancouver Sun editorial staff. J.S. is the Education writer for the Sun, and recently wrote an article about the company I work for. I will admit that I have my own criticisms of the system that has been in place, but things are continually improving. The accusations made in the article are unbalanced, are an example of poor journalism, and represent the views of a disgruntled employee who had a number of reasons to complain publicly that were not connected to the reality of her job. I've never been one to keep my opinion to myself, so I responded. The content of my letter is below if you're interested. The link for the article in the Sun can be found at the bottom of this post. Read if you have time and have any interest in keeping journalism in western Canada balanced.

T

*          *           *           *

Hi,

I am a BC certified teacher working for the Maple Leaf International School in Dalian, China. I teach high school English in the BC program and recently read your article and the related blog posts about the school in Tianjin. As I'm sure you've guessed, many of our teachers have read it. 

I first want to say that I thought your article seemed to be missing a great deal of information about the school program accused of academic dishonesty, and you did a good job of making it seem like the Maple Leaf program and the BC offshore programs were in dire straits.

Shannon Davis, the principal complainant, is not a BC certified teacher, doesn't work in the BC program or even in the BC high school, and doesn't teach any BC curriculum. She is an ESL/EFL teacher at the middle school, which is independent of the BC program. My first year with Maple Leaf was with our ESL Middle School program in Dalian, and I was never directly connected to the BC academic program at the high school until I applied for a transfer. I worked with 4-5 other foreign teachers, but I was under the jurisdiction of the Chinese school program staff. The curriculum taught was locally developed, as are most ESL programs overseas. To an outsider this difference can seem irrelevant. However, when you're criticizing a Ministry-certified off-shore program, you should be making a differentiation between certified BC teachers in academic courses under the jurisdiction of the Ministry of Education, and those teaching ESL/EFL/ELL. You do mention that one BC teacher was involved in the complaint, but the person goes unnamed and it is unclear if they are merely lending support to Ms. Davis or if they are making accusations toward the BC program. There is a large difference between the two.

Did you inquire into the reasons for the complaints? Did you attempt to contact other teachers not named in the emails to see if they supported these accusations beyond those who have left? I don't know Ms. Davis, but I would expect that other people beyond the two mentioned in the email would have something to say. I have been working with Maple Leaf for a few years and my dealings with administration in our program have always been professional, and they have never pressured me to increase or inflate grades. I know pressure comes from students, parents, and sometimes from non-BC staff for English grades to be higher, but at the end of the day, our students in the BC program are made accountable by the 40% provincial exam mark in English/Communications 12, which is graded in BC by a group of experienced, trained, and non-Maple-Leaf-affiliated teachers. Furthermore, the accusation of inflating grades would typically refer to report cards and transcripts; however, the middle school (where Ms. Davis is/was an employee) doesn't issue report cards until December. If the accusations were made weeks/months ago, how was Ms. Davis being influenced if the teachers never provided reports to students/parents? Likewise, if her immediate supervisors were forcing her to "give inaccurate grades", in what way did this happen? An ESL curriculum developed for middle school students would obviously be much different than a fully-integrated, BC certified course.

You refer to Ms. Davis by name. You also said that "a couple of the teachers who shared their stories with [you]" were "fleeing China with a plan to write a book about their experiences." Not to nitpick in the details, but using a word like "fleeing" implies that the teacher is in danger of some sort of repercussions beyond losing her job. Refugees flee genocide. Criminals flee a crime scene. If these teachers were leaving, they did not "flee". If people want to leave this job, the door is there. If they are let go, there would be a reason.

I'm curious, too, about the details relating to the school "harass[ing]" them and creating "an unsafe environment". Some detail here would be helpful. Making such statements without specific evidence or detail allows readers to create any sort of myth they choose. I know this rhetorical strategy is effective to sway the minds of your audience, but doesn't it take away from your professional sense of integrity?

As to the inclusion and reference to the audio tape of the staff meeting, you include a single, frustrated quote from Mr. Ryan Waurynchuk, the Tianjin high school principal. You say that it was "possibly the most interesting" piece in the puzzle you were trying to assemble. The thing I found interesting was the reality that the quote doesn't show him being offensive, demeaning, or unprofessional.  If Ms. Davis wasn't the one taping the staff meeting, don't you think you should tell readers who it was and explain why they don't step forward to share their grievances publicly? In contrast, it is extremely unprofessional to send a recording of a staff meeting to a newspaper without raising concerns in the proper and expected way first. If a BC teacher was taping this staff meeting, he/she would be stepping outside of profession expectations; teachers are expected to discuss problems and bring issues to administrative bodies before taking them to the next level.  Also, if you're going to imply that there was something untoward said in the meeting, why not quote it? Why hide behind the veil of insinuation?

My final point is again related to your intimations that all BC off-shore schools were under fire from the Ministry; you do so in one way by referencing your own article from last year in a related blog post on the Vancouver Sun website. I read last year's article. The accusations in the current article against the BC program refer to the practice in the school of inflating grades to get kids into universities. However, the article you reference from last year stated the following: "Alberta's inspections are much more robust [than Ontario's] and although Cosco didn't review B.C.'s inspection process, she concluded, based on interviews with staff, that they are similar to Alberta's." Wouldn't this show that the BC off-shore schools are actually "robust" and rigorous in meeting and maintaining the standards of the Ministry according to your own references?

Inspectors from the Ministry check planning and curricular documents from the department level (overviews and calendars developed by departments) down to the individual teacher (term, unit, and lesson plans showing both long-term and short-term planning and assessment) to make sure everything is in line. These documents are developed in conjunction with the Ministry-created Prescribed Learning Outcomes for all courses. And this happens every year—schools in BC are inspected only every 5 years. I wonder what your motivation is in criticizing a BC-accredited program that is faithfully maintaining teaching standards in accordance with BC standards.  The effect of your article could have ramifications for our students, who legitimately graduate with a BC Dogwood diploma; they could also negatively impact the hard-working teachers who plan to seek employment elsewhere in the future.

My sincere hope is that future articles are more balanced and more thoroughly researched than this current article and other related blog entries.

Articles referenced:

http://blogs.vancouversun.com/2012/11/23/teacher-distress-at-a-b-c-certified-school-in-china/

 http://www.vancouversun.com/news/Teachers+allege+grade+inflation+contract+violations/7603331/story.html

Participating in your democracy

Although I currently live in a place where democracy isn't effectively or widely practiced, and the governmental style is one of control rather than discussion and debate, I've always felt it necessary in my life to share my opinion when I felt people were out of line and speak up publicly when things needed to be said. More will come tomorrow, but I'll be sending a letter to the Vancouver Sun regarding the education reporter's most recent article concerning accusations of grade inflation, intimidation, and academic dishonesty in a BC off-shore school. After sending it, I'll post the text of the letter here on the blog. Stay tuned...

T

A Challenge

Friends,

A good friend and colleague, has made a small challenge. As you know, I'm currently growin' a Mo for Movember. He is a reluctant supporter, but he said he'd donate $60 if I shave HALF my moustache this week while allowing the other half to grow for the rest of the month. However, $60 isn't enough to ruin the beauty (and make me feel okay about alienating the delightful Miss M).

My challenge to you: Donate. If my total donations exceeds $600 by Friday and my colleagues raise an additional $300 for my MoSpace, I will do it and look like a fool for the final week of the month. Any supporters out there? Making me look ridiculous is just one more reason to donate. Rally your friends... call your parents. Make it happen. 

http://mobro.co/TMoRAK

My message to MM today via Facebook

This is a message I sent to MM today over Facebook... it may get me into hot water, but with the taste sensation exploding in my mouth, I simply don't care.

"So, our friends think we're competing with each other and attempting to one-up each other over the food we make on a nearly daily basis. I tried to go on the defensive and explain to them how absurd they were being. Then, as my southern-style chipotle and black bean chili simmered on the stove, and I thought back to my amazing pre-lunch indulgence of homemade Greek salad (two kinds of olives, a bucket of feta, and more sauce than Granny shakes her wooden spoon at) and my lunch-lunch of red Thai curry (of which my student from Thailand said, "smells just like Thailand!"), I thought they might be right. And I'm winning."

Don't judge me too harshly. But do, please, come by for dinner sometime. It's only a short flight to DongBei.

T

My, how far we've come

There are so many moments in my life that I wonder about the state of the world. I could wax nostalgic about better days in the past when people weren't cruel, when people didn't encourage bad behaviour, when people didn't do miserable, awful things to each other. But I know I'd look the fool. The "good old days" weren't necessarily better. It's easy to say, "That didn't happen when I was that age." Reality check: it did.

The difference now is about how widespread the misery can be made. Today, we're wired. Andriods, wifi, laptops, apps, data, continual and constant feedback and information being sent around our Twitter-verse. Google+, Facebook, blogs (guilty as charged), micro-blogs, newsreels, rss feeds, and a whole host of other jargon-filled technological indulgence allows endless access to an audience for bullies, predators, criminals, and miscreants of all colours, shapes, and sizes. Small, ridiculous vendettas can become the stuff of personal ruin and cause enough damage to warrant a psychological breakdown. 

The story of Amanda Todd goes far past that of bullying. When I read the article on the CBC the other day, I was sad about how cruel kids could be to each other. I thought a great deal about this last year during "the incident" and how helpless I felt to stop it. Bullying can be many things, but the story of this poor girl is so much more brutal and despicable. Sure, bullying was a part of it, but that's only one facet.YouTube took down the video she posted around the time of her suicide. However, this isn't something that should be hidden, and the video is back online. You'll see by some of the comments that there are a tonne of despicable vermin on the internet who think it's funny/helpful/righteous to continue to show ignorance and hatred toward this girl, even now that she's dead. They put blame on her and express the belief that she was responsible for this herself. But this isn't simply bullying... it's victimization, continual and widespread. Watch the video here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ej7afkypUsc  It began with an event of sexual coercion and predation which turned into blackmail and a snowballing course of emotional and psychological abuse over months and years. A foolish decision made by a seventh-grade girl turned Amanda Todd into a pariah who was victimized, blackmailed, and emotionally/psychologically assaulted by someone who decided that, since she wouldn't give up more of what he wanted, he was going to do his best to ruin her. From there, it was all downhill. And in today's day and age, it's impossibly easy. After this episode of villainy, Amanda Todd began victimizing herself and never found her way out of a very dark place. The post-assault bullying that took place at school after school was beyond cruel and impossible to imagine. Beaten, shunned, ostracized. I regret every moment where I was a beast by making fun of those who I deemed "below" me. And please read THIS ARTICLE.

I'm not so pessimistic to say that only bad things come from our wired world. Fundraising, peace campaigns, education and so many other facets of the modern age are helping to fight against ignorance, racism, bigotry, and connect people in ways that were never possible before. But within the walls of this glossy new world, the dark reality is too hard to ignore. We have become not only an impatient people seeking immediate satisfaction and immediate feedback, but we've also created a beast that can exponentially enhance both good and evil in ways that are hard to fathom. Does the good outweigh the misery? Not when a young girl turns to suicide as her only hope.

T

Even when they don't get it right...

... they get it right. This was what the barista heard when I ordered my americano and provided my given name. Although not technically accurate, it seems apt all the same.

It's all about the little things in life. From Kuala Lumpur and the rest of Asia...

T

Constant departures...

3 ferries (66km), 3 flights (7846km), 3 trains (923km), one sailboat ride (about 20kms), 2 buses (1281km), multiple car trips (approximately 2134km), 2 bears, multiple eagles, one skunk, countless gophers, one osprey which outfished me, a mama moose, a gaggle of deer.

This was my summer in a numerical nutshell.

I've had big travel dreams for years. In the spring of 2000, when I made my first trip out to the west coast with the family, I knew there was something more to this desire to see everything I could lay my goggled eyes on. It didn't take long to realize that those desires were going to be expanded from seeing Canada to stepping foot on as much of the planet as possible. For what other reason could I justify the thousands of dollars and hundreds of hours that I've spent on flights, trains, buses, taxis, ferries, tuktuks, motorbikes, and rickshaws? Work? Not really... I can find places to teach at home if I desperately wanted to. Nope... there was something more there the whole time.

I've talked about it before, but part of it was definitely linked to the heavily-accented stories told by my grandmother as I grew up in the prairie lands. Often the rest of the family got bored or uncomfortable when, inevitably, the stories would turn tragic and would rekindle a deep sadness my grandmother felt. I'm certain there was a sense of abandonment there too, leaving and ensuring her own safety, all the while knowing that more people would suffer under the newly-communist former Yugoslavia, just after the war was "won" against the Nazis. One could spend a lot of time debating what it means to win a war.

Luckily for me, I didn't come from poverty and other than giving up the requisite trips to Disneyland that my more affluent friends and acquaintances seemed to have taken care of before the age of 15 (when I say "give up", I mean I didn't exactly have the opportunity and my McDonald's earnings sure weren't being saved to make it happen). I came from a family who did, however, think I was crazy for embarking on my Europe excursion and they still believe (after I've been overseas in China for going on 4 years) that I'm nuts for living on the other side of the Great Firewall of the PRC. But they know... they see the glint in my eye as I get ready to hop on a plane, and they can sense my oncoming and ever-enduring verbal diarrhea when I talk about the flights/people/adventures I've experienced. This life isn't for everyone, but it sure is for me.

My Canada trip took me across 6 provinces, from one coast to another, and into different beds nearly every few days. I was exhausted when I returned "home" again to Dalian and it was wonderful to retreat into my place of comfort again. I got to see Canada's most beautiful cities all in one (expensive) fell swoop and my life continues to be more rich because of it. When I finally got back to China, I noticed that the techno music hadn't gotten any quieter and people don't spit less often, but I have grown to love the land of the People's Republic. As with experience in novelty, one can grow tired.

Thus, here I am, enjoying free Wifi at Starbucks on Victoria Road in Singapore. No firewall, no spitting ($1000 fine if you do!), and no problems just being. Other than trying to sort out the free Wifi system they offer to all locals. I'm down in order to pursue potential jobs for next year with my lady in tow. I'm hoping for some good luck. For now, though, the cosmopolitan surroundings I'm indulging right now will suffice, It's easy to get lost in all the accented vernacular here, but I'll indulge nonetheless.

As always, from the road (which is ever-changing), much love.

T

Curious incidents...?

This is a story from a few weeks ago that is simply just too good to not re-tell...

I'm just arriving home on a Friday night with a couple friends in tow. We're planning to enjoy a few sodas before embarking on a night out with a bunch of the new teachers. MM is at my apartment getting some things ready.

So MM notices this weird wet spot on the floor in my bedroom, and since we'd both been gone all day, this is strange. She decides to investigate. She sniffs it. She touches it. Neither of these sensory endeavours yield information. Still uncertain, she decides to lick her finger so to taste the substance making up the mysterious wet spot. She's still confused... she mentions the fact that there's a wet spot on my bedroom floor. I'm thinking that it may have rained during the day and it came in the window. We hang out for a couple of hours, then head out on the town. Because we're busy, we forget about it. Coming home later, I step in something wet but I'm too tired to deal with it. It's late, I'm exhausted.

In the morning, I wake up with a start, I hear a loud sound coming from outside. Nope... inside. It's not just any sound... it's barking. It was the sound of a dog barking. Like, 10 feet away from my bed, in the hallway. In my apartment. The dog is barking loud. I get scared, put on some pants, and investigate. No dog. I go out to the patio. No dog. Then, though, I see the girl next door on her patio. Her pet pug is on the patio with her. I go back inside. I see a puddle against/beside the hutch in my entrance.

I then realize one of the consequences of living on the top floor of an apartment building in China, where apartments have connected balconies. A dog had been using my apartment for a pee/playground when I left my patio door open. I also realize my girlfriend licked dog urine.

T

Year #4 and another long hiatus

As per usual, the time seems to disappear without notice. In a mere two days, October will be over. Just last week it was summer, but yesterday we got our first taste of the cool north wind funneling down from the hinterlands of Siberia. And somehow, barely after being able to remember the names of my new students, I'm hopping on a plane for my first holiday of the year.

My new job as Department Head has been, well, full. I'm the head of English 11, which has about 12 teachers between Intro to Lit and English 11 classes. I've got a full load of English courses myself that are keeping me plenty busy, and since we've already sent home our first round of report cards, the month of September was anything but quiet. Multiple meetings per week with my department, the admin, and our new English coordinator... regular and ongoing emails with department colleagues, coordinating teaching strategies with the other grade levels, and trying to keep up on my marking/planning. It's hard for me to believe that in just my fourth year here, I'm considered one of the "olds"... full of wisdom, knowledge and guidance. What is the school/world coming to?? 

My new assignment also brought me a change of venue over to the Girls' Campus. This has been a weird but fun adjustment. I find myself much more calm in the classroom and the constant spitting in the hallways and lack of interest in the classroom aren't nearly as evident. Whether it's because of the DH job or that my classes (including my homeroom) are all taught in the same classroom and I don't have to share with anyone else, I'm not exactly sure what the reason is, but I know that things feel much better this year. I even have a couple of my old middle school students from 3 years ago in my English class. My decorating talents pale in comparison to my Zhou Enlai homeroom (top students in the grade), but the girls just take care of everything and make it awesome. The girls can be loud and boisterous and they like to laugh. I'd come to assume that it'd be like pulling teeth to get them talking. Nope... definitely not the case. I even feel like I'm finally starting to figure out this teaching thing. Who knows? Maybe I'll make a run at being a decent teacher after all.

But enough about work. It's vacation time! The wonderful MM and I are leavin' on a jet plane for Kuala Lumpur and Singapore for the next week. It wasn't exactly a financially frugal trip, but the hope is that we'll come back with more potential for jobs for next year in much more tropical, much more beautiful locales. Your duty (for those few readers who read this nonsense), is to cross fingers, say prayers, or burn some incense to inspire some good luck to float our way.

I have a post from the summer that I'll post soon about my travels, and another one about an an unexpected incident of a mystery animal in the nighttime. Those will come soon (quite possibly during layovers en route to the tropics). Until then...

T

I'm still alive (and a shout-out to Momsy)

As has been the trend this semester/year, distractions, busyness, and a general sense of contentment and fatigue have kept me from this place I used to frequent oh-so-much. A distraction is coming in the form of a, well, friend, and between playing baseball (I'm now an official member of the Jinshitan Jays, and have been starting at 3rd or 1st base the past few games) and practicing for volleyball and running tutorials and organizing my badminton club, I haven't had a tonne of down-time. And it's finally spring! And I'm only 7 weeks to Canada! So much is happening and there's so much to think about that, at the end of the day, neglect you (4 or 5) dedicated readers of my life.

I also just returned from a fantastic little vacation to Korea, and since returning I keep thinking to myself (a la Liz Lemon), "I want to go to there," again. Clean, fun, coffee EVERYWHERE, and some amazing entertainment at the baseball stadium (two games and the best fans ever) made it a destination I want to return to. Who knows... maybe even as a place of employment.

For the timebeing (knowing full-well that it's a few hours too late), I just wanted to wish my mom, Gran Mrak, Grams Miller, and all the other amazing women and moms I know that they're awesome... Happy Mother's Day!

Now, though, I must dash. More soon (I promise)... from your deadbeat but upbeat friend from across the street (and across the pond).

Much love from Chinaland.

T