Thursday, October 4, 2012
Connections
Sunday, September 30, 2012
Possibilities
The journey to this point has been an… interesting one, in many ways, and yet every step (or in the moment, mis-step) has led me to exactly this point. There are many in this world who tell you everything happens for a reason… many others who don’t buy the idea that we are being guided in our path. I’m not sure where I fit in that debate; my answer will change depending on the day, the moment; sometimes it seems like there must be a plan, and yet at other times I wonder how there could be. There are so many horrible, catastrophic things that happen in this world, big and small, that I almost hope it is random, for I don’t know if I want to be at the whim of some guiding force that at times has such a cruel, sadistic sense of humour.
Regardless of how I got here (and really, does it matter how we got here? We’re here, wherever here is, let’s make the best of it), I know that here, right here, is the perfect place for me to be. I am about to embark on an amazing career path, one that I am excited about for a million reasons. It is rewarding; it is challenging, exciting, important, difficult at times and effortless at others… many, many more things that I will continue to discover for the rest of my working life. That, above all, is what I look forward to; the knowledge that I will be discovering new things day in and day out, for however long I stay in the classroom. Teaching is many things, but it is never boring, never routine, for those who dare to challenge themselves, and never let it become boring or routine. I grew up in a house with two great examples of that… well, actually, five great examples of that, as all of us are following in the footsteps of parents who love what they do, and are damn good at it, to boot.
There were times over the last year and a half since I graduated that I wondered if this day would ever happen, if this career would ever get started. Application after application ended with one of two responses, that in a way were one response; either total and complete silence, which is a sad reality of this saturated teaching market, with hundreds or thousands of applicants vying for every job, making it impractical to respond unless the news is good; or, on the rare occasion where I did get through the initial onslaught of applicants, I got the honour of hearing an actual, personal “no.” It was maddening, frustrating, disappointing… then, eventually, it became disheartening. I kept telling people that it was just a matter of time, that it was bound to happen sooner or later, but I stopped believing it. I have a lot of good relationships with customers at Starbucks, people that I talk to every day, and have gotten to know pretty well; I began to curse those relationships, as each and every one asked, and asked, and asked, how the job hunt was going, if anything was happening. The forced smile got more and more difficult, the fake cheer harder and harder to muster, as I told them what I knew deep down wasn’t true; that it would happen soon. I forgot what may be the two most important words in the English language: “I could.”
I have come to realize the importance of these words over the last month or so. I’m a supremely logical person, one who can see all sides of most arguments even if I don’t necessarily believe them, and am hard to shake off of a position once I arrive at one. I looked at the numbers, looked at what I had to offer on paper, and came to the conclusion that I was going to be one of those who never got a shot. Sometimes it’s who you know, sometimes it’s what you know… in a lot of places these days, you need to know someone to even get a chance to show what you know, and it seemed like the few people I knew were in the wrong place, or weren’t enough to give me a chance to show what I knew. How do you stand out, in a cover letter and resume, from the 500, or 1000, or 10000, other people who have almost exactly the same qualifications that you do? I couldn’t figure it out, and I almost stopped trying. Would have, if my wife would have let me. Fortunately, she didn’t.
I had forgotten that I had possibilities, that I had choices I could make. I could doesn’t have to mean I will… it just means that I have options, if I want them. I could go to law school. Maybe it doesn’t make sense for me, maybe I will choose not to… but I could. I could volunteer in a number of schools, make more and better connections in Vancouver to get a job here. I don’t think I want to work for the VSB, the district and the process here seem broken, to me… but I could. I’m working in Chilliwack, and commuting from Kits. I don’t think I want to do this for more than a little while… but I could. I have options, and I see them now… really, I always did, I just couldn’t, or didn’t, see them.
There are always options in life. Hate your job? There are lots of them out there, and people change them every day. It might be hard, it might be scary… but you could do it. Don’t like where you live? There are lots of places in this world, and many of them are amazing… go check them out. I hear people complain about the rain in Vancouver literally every single day it rains, which as we all know is many. This an amazing city, one that has a million things going for it, one that I love… but it rains. A lot. If you can’t deal with that, there are lots of places that get less rain. Winnipeg gets way more sun than we do… why not move there?
I have a lot of things that I want to start doing again, now that I’m teaching; I want to ski, I want to golf, I want to coach… most importantly, I want to spend more time with my family. Time off with Lisa, and waaaay more time with Lizzie, are two huge reasons why I chose this career. Finally, I’m going to start to make time to write. It’s something that I’ve been pretty good at all my life, and want to explore that some more. Will I ever do more than putter with it, do it for the enjoyment of it? Probably not.
But I could.
Gravity
Families have anchors, as well; that one central figure that holds everyone together, keeps you from drifting too far apart as you all make your own way in life. It is far too easy to get caught up in the day to day, caught up in your own little world, and lose touch with those who are an important part of your life. Weeks become months become years, and before you know it it’s been far too long without seeing someone who you care about. The gravity of that central figure keeps you in orbit around them, so even as you move in your own life, you are kept in contact with others around that same figure.
My family lost that central figure almost twenty years ago now. My Papa passed away in 1994, far too soon despite his 85 years. I’ve now lived almost half my life without him, and yet he still looms so large in my thoughts; I see his shadow in my Dad, a legacy that I long to live up to in my own life, as a father, and as a man. That legacy is intimidating at times, as I find my own way in life, but I know both Dad and Papa are there for me, supporting me every step of the way.
Since Papa died, his family has certainly drifted apart, at least from where we were. I still see my family on occasion, and thoroughly enjoy their company when we get together, but the gaps in between are larger and larger as time goes on. While it’s often like we’ve never been apart, children get older, lives change, and we drift. The last few years weddings and milestone birthdays have served to bring us together, but there aren’t likely to be any more of those in the very near future; we will need to find our own reasons to keep in touch.
This past weekend was a time for me where I felt that pull very strongly. Seeing almost the entire Watson family I felt his presence with me the entire trip. Driving by the old house in Cumberland, showing Lizzie where her Grampa grew up; the house that Papa bought when he came back from the war, that he lived in for the rest of his life. Stopping for donuts at the bakery up the street, as we did when we were kids. Of course, it’s no longer Auchterlone’s, and the donuts just don’t measure up to my memories; I’m not sure that they could, to be honest, no matter how good they are. Childhood memories like that are hard to beat.
Getting up to Gold River after faaaaar too many years, I felt him again. My last time there was a fishing trip to Friendly Cove, where Dad and I went with Papa, Shane and Brian. My first time on the open ocean was my first time getting seasick, as apparently growing up in Agassiz didn’t prepare my stomach to handle the up and down, up and down, up and down of fishing out there. We caught a couple cod that day, and Brian filleted one of them on the spot, tossing the rest of the fish out of the boat to be picked up by a circling bald eagle. That day was very firmly imprinted on my memory, and returning to the place brought it all back more strongly than I could have guessed.
I felt the pull of family this weekend, and felt as strongly as ever how lucky I am to be part of such a friendly, loving, generous family. The Comox Valley felt like a long lost home; I haven’t lived there in 34 years (god that makes me feel old), but it was so familiar, so full of memories, that for the first time I understood how my parents longed to go back there after so long away. Home is where your family is, where your roots are; my parents have provided that for so long in the Fraser Valley, it has always been home. And yet, as time passes away from there, I realize that without them, Agassiz holds little pull these days. I’ll drive through it on occasion forever, probably, drive by the old houses where I lived and see how the town is doing, but even now it feels more like somewhere I was, once, and less like home. Home is Vancouver, now, but I suddenly feel like that could change someday, as well. Who knows, I could eventually follow my parents over to the island. After a long time away, I suddenly feel that gravity again.
I missed it.
Father's Day Thoughts
Anyways, it might seem to be a bit of a stretch, assuming all these things of a man I never met; but only if you never met my Papa. I’ve said before that hero is probably the right word to describe him, in my eyes. I grew up in an extended family that was very close, and he was the centre of that, the glue that held that family together, a fact that unfortunately was made all too clear in the years after he passed away. We are still close, but since Papa left us it just hasn’t been the same.
Papa in his younger days was a star athlete and a great student, and the fact that he went away to UBC and then came back to little Cumberland has always stood out to me; here was a man who could have gone anywhere, done anything, but he went back to his roots, became principal of the school in town, and remained active in the community until the day he died. Family, community, these were what mattered, something he passed on to his children. He coached sports throughout his teaching career, including a stretch coaching Dad’s youth basketball team; sports, and family, a combination that has certainly been passed down. He was there at many of my key sports moments; the one of these that most sticks out in my head was when my basketball team, with Dad as coach, won the provincial championship, with Nanny and Papa in the stands.
With Papa as a role model, it might seem like a given that my father would be the same, but such things can never be taken for granted, especially when you consider that I was born when Dad was just 19. I can’t imagine having that kind of responsibility at that age, and in so many situations these days that is a recipe for disaster; kids, having kids. Fortunately for me, this wasn’t any 19 year-old.
Growing up, he was that perfect combination of parent and big brother, a playmate when I needed one, and yet an authority figure when he needed to be. Basketball, softball, golf, tennis, you name it he would play it with us (and beat us at it, a trend that faded far too late in life). The coaching gene had apparently been passed to him, as well, and all of us grew up in the Agassiz High gym, learning to dribble a basketball soon after we learned to walk. Once we began to play organized sports, he coached us if he could, if we wanted him to, and to this day he remains the best coach I ever had. Other coaches screamed and yelled and punished their players for mistakes, forced them to memorize plays, sucked the fun out of the game; he made us want to play, let us have fun while giving us the tools to be successful at the same time, and almost never raised his voice; and of course, when you never yell, it makes the times you do far more effective, as anyone who has been on the receiving end of his anger will attest to.
He coaching style and his parenting style are very similar, and I guess in a way that makes sense, they are different degrees of the same role; sports coach versus life coach. Patient, fun, allowing you room to make mistakes, and there to help you through them when you do; for as many times as I’m sure I disappointed him while growing up, I can not think of a single time where he disappointed me. You know, I don’t think there are very many people in this world who can say that about their parents; until I wrote that, I had never really thought about it, which I’m pretty sure makes it true.
This all started in my head the other day, when Lisa and Lizzie were making a Father’s Day card for me, and Lizzie saw a picture of a trophy with some writing on it; she asked Lisa what it said, so Lisa read it for her: “World’s Greatest Dad.” Lizzie responded: “Let’s use that one, because he is the greatest dad in the world.” I teared up a little bit when Lisa told me that, even as I thought Lizzie was wrong… she doesn’t have the greatest Dad in the world, I do, and I think if he read this my Dad would probably say the same thing. Three generations in a row thinking that they’ve got the greatest dad in the world is an amazing thing; and if Lizzie is still thinking the same thing 30 years from now then maybe I’ve fulfilled the legacy that I have been handed.
I miss you Papa.
Thank you Dad.
Happy Father’s Day.
I love you both.
June 20, 2010
Saturday, September 29, 2012
Let's Keep Painting the Town Red
Maybe that’s why I’ve always been such a huge fan of the Olympics; in a country where flag-waving is often seen as unseemly, seen as something too American (and ‘not American’ has always been one of the ways we have defined ourselves), this was a chance to wave the flag, to cheer on our athletes, even as they so often struggled for success on the world stage. To me, perhaps the single most definitive Olympic moment (at least until Sidney’s goal) was Simon Whitfield standing on top of the Olympic podium, tears streaming down his face as he sang along with O Canada. That, to me, has always been the pinnacle of success, listening to your anthem because you were the best in the world at what you did. Outside of hearing Lizzie first cry, I can’t imagine too many better feelings.
Because of this, seeing the flags, the crowds, the sea of red that spread across the city and the country over the last couple of weeks has been absolutely amazing. Considering the apparent mixed sentiments towards the games that Vancouver and BC held, no one could have predicted how we would rise up and embrace the Games, but embrace them we did. Our ‘Glitch Games’, described by some as the worst ever a scant two days in, overcame tragedy on the backs of the thousands of people who jammed the streets, the concerts, the actual events, until our athletes overcame their first week struggles and crowned the games with final weekend triumph. Alex Bilodeau broke the drought, but to me the turning point was Virtue and Moir, opening the floodgates that kept the rings in Coal Harbour gold for most of the final week, culminating in a moment that will live in Canadian history, as some 25 million of us watched the hockey team claim gold, and then seemingly all converged on the corner of Granville and Robson to celebrate, peacefully for once. So many times those “where were you when…” moments are defined by tragedies; this was one of those, and it was in triumph.
Let’s do ourselves, and our country, a favour; let’s take this love of our country that we rediscovered, or just made public, and run with it, carry it forward. Let’s not let beer commercials be the only things that stir our pride; let’s not put on our Canada gear (and kudos to HBC for giving us gear worth wearing) and pick up our flags every couple of years, when the Olympics are on or our hockey team is playing; let’s wear our hearts on our sleeves every day. Not over the top, not in your face, not over the line that our American cousins cross too frequently; just confident, and proud, of who we are and where we are from. Let’s not make these two weeks something that happened, once. Let’s make them something that changed us, forever.
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Dear Lizzie
Dear Lizzie:
Not sure if, or when, you’ll see this, or appreciate it, but I think this is somewhat selfishly more for me than you. Time is passing by so quickly, so amazingly, frighteningly, quickly, that I want to get this down while it still fits. As I gradually see things we have always done fade into the past, as you grow taller, grow up, the sense I need to hold to every single moment just gets stronger and stronger.
You are an amazing, brilliant little girl, although even now the little seems a bit dated. So smart, so kind, so thoughtful… if I could have listed all of the qualities I wanted my child to have, you would have all of them, and then some. You are so artistic, happiest when you are creating; I see that in my family, but I guess it skipped me. Fortunately for all of this, it came out, and then some, in you. The things you make are always amazing; I know part of that is a proud father talking, but only a very small part. Another, bigger part is the love that is in all of it; you make these things because you love to, and because you want the people you give them to to know that you love them. Just the other day, when we pulled out our Christmas decorations and the “Family” plaque you made was in there, it struck me again how special you are; not an infrequent occurrence, of course, but that was one of the more notable times it hit me.
Two huge things struck me this past weekend, as well, two signs that you are growing up (and up and up and up!) The first was a physical thing; we went to leave, and you very casually, easily, unlocked the front door, on that deadbolt way up near the top of the door. I remember how little you were when we moved in, how far away that lock seemed from your little hand, and it makes me a little sad. Once again we had the “you need to stop growing” conversation, one that we both know the silliness of, but I don’t think you get how serious I am when I say it. Of course I want you to grow up, I can’t wait to see the amazing person you are going to grow into, but part of me just wants to keep you how you are, every time I see you. I will never forget the time we had that conversation, and you told me: Daddy, I’m going to keep growing, but I’ll always be your little girl.” So true, so poignant… and in a way, so sad.
The other thing that struck me was one of those small details, something you probably didn’t notice in the moment. Every time we send you to go get ready for bed, put your pajamas on, you grab my hand and bring me with you. I know you don’t need the help getting ready, but I think it’s just one of those little daddy-Lizzie things that you like… and I love. This past Friday, I sent you to get ready for bed, and off you went. No pause, no reaching for my hand, you just went and got ready. I don’t know if it will be a trend, or just a one-off, but the day will come, and possibly soon, where that will be how it is. You will be too big, too grown-up, to have your Dad (not Daddy, Dad) help you change. The closer that day gets, and I know it’s not too far away now, the more I dread it.
It’s funny, as I sit here writing this a customer at Starbucks I know well stopped to chat, and he is off to join his daughter to celebrate her 27th Birthday. We had a brief conversation about how quickly time passes, and he brought up that day in the future when boys will enter the picture… I shut that down in a hurry. I know it will come, way too fast, but I’d rather not think about it for now.
There are times where I think you recognize what I’m talking about here, and even feel the same way yourself. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but every time you throw yourself on me, or want to be picked up like you always have, it hits me; I’m probably the only person still doing that. You are too big to be picked up, to be carried by your mom these days, and you seem to miss it; the times I pick you up and you snuggle in, arms and legs dangling because you are so big, I sense that you don’t want that to be in the past any more than I do. I promise you, I’ll continue as long as I can… I hope that my ability to carry outlasts your need to be carried. I’ll do my best.
In a way, I guess that sentiment sums up what I’m trying to say here: I’ll do my best. I’m one of the lucky few that has had a father (and a mother) that I knew I could always count on, no matter what. Everyone deserves that in life, but so few actually get it; you will. I can’t fix everything, the fact that you are still making monthly visits to Children’s removed that idea from my head, but you will never have to wonder if I love you, if you are important to me. I think that is already obvious to you, it seems to be, but I promise you a lifetime of the same. It is exactly what you deserve.
I love you Magoo
Saturday, March 26, 2011
The first time I came across Nike's "If You Let Me Play" ad campaign was in the mid-1990s, when my mom came home from a teaching conference with this poster.
The print on the poster is difficult to read in this image, but its text has a simple, yet extremely powerful, message. The text reads:
If You Let Me Play
I will like myself more
I will have more self-confidence
I will suffer less depression
I will be 60% less likely to get breast cancer
I will be more likely to leave a man who beats me
I will be less likely to get pregnant before I want to
I will learn what it means to be strong
If you let me play sports.
Soon after I saw the poster, I saw the television ad for the first time. It reiterated the message from the poster, with a very simple, powerful format... no music, no effects, just little girls looking into the camera and telling the audience how to make their lives better. Here is the television commercial:
Growing up with parents who coached a number of sports, and three sisters who all played university sports, I saw first-hand the power of sport. My sisters are all strong, grounded women, and I firmly believe that growing up playing sports has contributed to that.
The issue became even more important to me when my daughter was born; I fully intended that she be given the opportunity to play sports. Her options down that road became somewhat limited a couple of years ago, however, when she was diagnosed with a blood disorder that greatly restricts her blood's ability to clot. Any sort of contact sport went out the window at that point in time; still, there are a number of sports that she can take part in, including tennis and swimming, and I am determined that she will be able to play sports, if she chooses.
Using a number of the resources we have touched upon over the length of this course, I am going to go into some detail about how and why these ideas are important for children, especially females.
TAGXEDOI first used the transcript of the television commercial to complete a word web, using the website http://www.tagxedo.com/. It's not the first word-web site I have come across (http://www.wordle.com/) is another good one, but it is the easiest to use; in fact, my wife used it to create a number of birthday cards for friends, within days of being shown the site.User-friendly, and extremely useful as well.
I was extremely happy with how this web turned out... the words I wanted were highlighted, and I think the intended message is the one that comes through.
BODY IMAGE AND AVATARSIn today's world, we are constantly assaulted by images that show what a woman is 'supposed' to look like: rail thin, scantily dressed, and usually highly sexualized. Even as women's rights are in many ways at an all-time high, expectationson women are in the same spot; today's women holds down a full-time job, manages her home and her family, and looks great doing it. That is the standard that is being held up, and the fact that it is a construction not based in reality does not matter; if you are not Martha Stewart in the body of Brooklyn Decker, then what is wrong with you? You still look like you had a baby 2 months after your child was born? Do you not care about yourself? It's no wonder that anorexia is at an all-time high, along with divorce rates. We are a society where Kim Kardashian and Paris Hilton, while universally mocked, are also universally held up to be admired: stupid, shallow, beautiful women who are famous for... well, for being rich and stupid, really.
That image of what a woman, or girl, should look and dress like is everywhere, can not be escaped. Even animated images of women look like them; this became clear when we tried to create avatars for this class. Liz complained that all of her avatars from one site were inappropriate to use, and she was not joking. I went into IMVU to create an avatar, and every option they had was young, beautiful, thin, and underdressed. Here was the finished product I ended up with..
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This image of what a female is supposed to look like is absolutely horrifying ; the thought that in a few years my 6-year old daughter will be dressing like this, wanting to look like this, terrifies me. I have to do my best to instill in her a sense of self-confidence, a sense of self-esteem that will ensure that even as she goes through the pressure and drama of her teenage years, she has learned enough to make the right decisions, decisions that I will be unable to make for her, at least actively.
ATHLETES AS ROLE MODELSI have always come out very strongly in opposition to the idea that athletes should be held to a higher standard of behaviour than society in general; a society where Kobe Bryant or Terrell Owens are held up as the standard we should try to emulate is one that is in serious trouble.
That said, there are certainly facets of almost every professional athlete that can be admired, and taken to heart. To become the best in the world at anything, not matter how talented one is, takes years of hard work and dedication to your craft, whatever that craft may be. Kobe Bryant can be admired for how hard he has worked at his game, for his determination to be the best basketball player ever, even as his off-court problems can be condemned.
Within the same context, there are many female athletes who can be admired by girls young and old for certain things that they do, and do well. Serena Williams has done some regrettable things in her life, but she has also succeeded in a sport that is historically almost entirely rich and caucsasian, despite coming from a low-income, African-American family. As well, she has shown the world that it is possible to be muscular, strong, and sexy, blowing away many stereotypes in the process. I see the downside of this, as well... she, like many others, has been seen as a sexual object, but I would certainly rather my daughter attempt to become strong, fit and sexy than to starve herself to be seen as attractive. Mia Hamm, to me, is one of those few athletes who deserves the title of role model; intelligent, classy, a great ahtlete, if you are going to emulate an athlete you could do far worse than her.
I included both of these women in my next artifact; a Glogster page (http://www.glogster.com/). While not the easiest site to work with, there were a number of handy, interesting tools in this site, and I am happy with the finished product.
The third woman I included on the Glogster page is not nearly as famous as either of the first two, but the story is a lot more personal to me. Kaila Mussell is the younger sister of an old friend of mine, a woman who I first met when she was 12 years old. She has since become the first female saddle-bronc rider in North America, and was featured in a music video by country legend Reba McEntire. I knew her as a strong (physically and mentally), determined teenager; she has obviously kept all of those qualities as she has grown up.
Here is the Glogster page:
http://jasonwatson.glogster.com/glog-9455/
YOUTUBE SEARCHSTORIES
I came across this tool a few months ago, when it was used to make fun of a certain former Vancouver Canuck. While the first one I saw was very funny, I certainly saw its potential to be used in a more serious way. I plugged a number of the ideas from the Nike commercial, and after a little playing around I was happy with the end product; you can also choose your own music, from a number of options. These mini-movies can be created at http://www.youtube.com/user/SearchStories.Finally, I have included links to a number of kids' sports programs across Vancouver. We are in an area where virtually any and every sport is available for children, but it can sometimes be difficult to find a starting point; well, here it is.
Golf:
BC Golf Junior Links: http://www.bcgolfpages.com/juniorgolf.php
Soccer:
Vancouver Youth Soccer Association: http://www.vysa.ca/ Burnaby Girls Soccer Club: http://www.burnabygirlssoccerclub.com/
Tennis:
Tennis BC Schools Program: http://www.tennisbc.org/community/schoolsprogram Kitsilano Community Centre Tennis Lessons: http://www.kitscc.com/activity/child/outdoor-sports
Basketball:
Steve Nash Youth Basketball League: http://www.snyb.ca/ RBL Youth Basketball: http://www.rblbasketball.ca/
Hockey:
Vancouver Minor Hockey Association: http://www.vmha.com/leagues/homeVMHA.cfm?leagueID=0&clientID=3957&link=VMHA
Swimming:
Vancouver Parks and Rec Swimming Lessons: http://vancouver.ca/parks/rec/pools/lessons.htm
Baseball:
Baseball BC Youth Leagues: http://www.baseball.bc.ca/leagues.php
Gymnastics
Vancouver Phoenix Youth Gymnastics: http://www.vancouveryouth.ca/node/507
Volleyball
Volleyball BC: http://www.volleyballbc.ca/